


Love is blind

by whitesplashes



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Anger, Angst, Drama, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Sadness, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, mild drug abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 03:01:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 22,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11797029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitesplashes/pseuds/whitesplashes
Summary: (Blind AU)Summary:John Smith was a happy man, but after a near death experience, his life is turned upside down. He is rendered blind and abandoned by friends and family; with lonliness and anger as his only companions. This all changes when he meets a beautiful young woman, Clara Oswald who slowly inches her way into his life and makes him feel alive once more.





	1. Reckless

**Author's Note:**

> A brand new fic, just for you guys. I'm hoping you enjoy this one as well.

Chapter 1

London, 2012

‘Awesome gig tonight, John! The crowd went crazy!’ exclaimed Jack Harkness, drummer and back up vocals to the locally well-known band, ‘Tardis’. 

John ‘The Doctor’ Smith, front man and lead guitarist grinned broadly at his lifelong friend and glanced in the rear-view mirror at River Song, his wife, band manager and pianist.

‘How do you guys wanna celebrate, tonight?’ he asked, winking at the blonde from his seat.

She smirked and flashed him, her red lace bra; earning an audible gulp as a response. Jack rolled his eyes. 

‘Save the couple stuff for later, please. You got company here and I’m too hyped to be a third wheel right now!’ he complained, throwing his arms up in the arm.

River snorted and produced a bottle of Vodka, from her duffle bag in the backseat.

‘Voila! Any takers?’ she questioned with a smirk.

Jack whistled and nodded in approval, immediately grabbing the alcohol and taking a long swig, before handing it back to River. She herself had a few gulps, before handing it over to her husband.

‘I’m driving! Can’t drink and drive. Road safety, people!’ whined John, trying hard not to accept the bottle.

‘Yolo, bro! You only live once! Come on, just a sip, nothing more!’ beckoned his bud in the passenger’s seat. 

The Doctor silently looked at his blonde partner in the reaview mirror once more, this time awaiting her approval, which she gave. River was quite a daredevil and dare he say, loved it! She knew just how to make his blood rush and heart race, living life on the edge of his seat. He never regretted marrying her two years ago.

John grabbed the bottle from Jack, who cheered on as he took one gulp, two, three… and passed it back to him.

‘Oh yeah!’ he said breathlessly, wiping his mouth on his shirt sleeve.

The trio stopped at a red light at an intersection, with River using the opportunity to exchange seats with Jack. John smiled at her, as she climbed in next to him and hissed as she gripped his inner thigh.

‘You guys not gonna have sex while we’re driving, are you?’ complained Jack, knowing fully well how racy the pair got after a few drinks and a successful performance.

‘Close your eyes and cork your eyes, Jack. Things are about to get loud,’ the pianist teased and proceeded to unzip John’s trousers. 

John stifled a moan, as River worked him well with her skilled hand, sucking him roughly into her mouth. He became so overwhelmed at his growing pleasure, he had to pull aside along the shoulder and finish before getting back on the road.

‘You, horny people…’ the drummer grumbled, staring out the window, sipping his drink.

They both snickered at him, passing the bottle between themselves, after River snatched it from his grasp. It was a giddy ride after that, the trio singing aloud with the liquor slowing going to their head. Halfway along their round trip, they encountered a bunch of female fans, who coaxed them to drag race down the street; the prize being a group shot with the band and a kiss from both Jack and John.

The ‘Tardis’ group buckled up and sped along the main way, long ahead of the group of fans, squealing and swearing at one another to win their prize. Approaching a changing traffic light, John pedalled the gas in hopes of beating the glowing amber before it blared red. Fortunately, he zoomed past as it changed, while the fans hit the brakes hard. He and his gang cheered happily, but their joy was short lived as John’s attention was diverted for a few seconds, and did not notice he was driving in the wrong lane or the large truck headed straight for them.

\-----

John awoke in pure darkness, his body aching. 

‘River?’ he groaned, attempting to sit up.

A hand on his chest, made him jump and he grabbed at it. 

‘Easy now…’ came a female voice.

‘Where am I?’ he asked, blinking a couple times.

‘You’re in the hospital, Mr. Smith.’

He grew alarmed, ‘Hospital?! Where’s Jack and River?’

‘I’m sorry Mr. Smith, but your friends are dead.’

John felt like someone rammed a knife in his chest. Jack was dead? River… his beloved wife… dead

‘T-that can’t be! You’re lying!’ he screamed, scrambling out of his bed.

Two nurses grabbed his arms and restrained him. 

‘I wanna see my wife! River! Jack!’ he shouted, helplessly.

‘They’re dead, Mr. Smith. We are sorry for your loss! Please calm down.’

‘Why is everything so dark in here?’ he asked suddenly.

‘We’re running tests on your eyes. You suffered severe head trauma in your accident. Right now, they are bandaged.’

John began tearing at the gauze wrapped around his head, the nurses once again pulling his arms apart to restrain him.

‘You need to calm down, sir!’ bellowed the female voice again.

He began fighting his way through their grip, kicking and biting.

‘Sedate him!’ ordered the female voice

John felt the sharp prod of a needle invading his skin and before he knew it, sleep took him.


	2. Guilt

Chapter 2

John stood numbly, the rain pattering against his black coat. The coldness began seeping in through his bones, as the gathering witnessed the second of the two coffins being lowered into the pit before them. The sounds of grieving family surrounding him, did not comfort the deep hollowness that filled his chest. It was a week now, since the accident. River, his loving wife and Jack, his life-long friend were both dead. He clasped his hands together to prevent them from shaking. He had done this. Had he not given into the excitement and been distracted for that split second, they would have been alive today… both of them.

He fixed his sunglasses over his gauzed eyes. The doctors were still running tests, determining the depth of the injuries he sustained from the impact. The latest news he heard, was his optic nerves were badly damaged and there was a slim chance he was to ever see again. Slim chance. He swallowed hard as he heard the mahogany box hit the dirt six feet below. He was able to maintain his composure when Jack’s groaned against the wet earth but River’s… he felt his eyes sting.

‘Would you like to say any final words, Mr. Smith?’ asked the priest, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

‘No,’ he croaked, batting his hand away.

The religious figure nodded and the gathering began dispersing as the grave diggers started covering the scar in the earth. He stood still, listening to every shovelful hit the wooden case; the sound growing fainter as the hole filled up. 

‘Time to go, John,’ said his sister Donna, taking him by the arm.

He did not move. She tugged at his coat and he slowly turned in her direction and headed toward the awaiting car. The drive home was quiet; the pounding of the rain the only sound heard for the entire forty-minute drive to his house. The crowd had gathered, Jack and River’s family all flooding the large rooms, chatting and chowing down on cheese and crackers with multiple cups of coffee. Upon John’s entry into the room, few members from both families extended their condolences to him.

The sympathy was short-lived as he felt a sharp pain across his face.

‘You murderer!’ accused River’s sister, Vastra.

Her wife Jenny, stood behind, as backup.

John rubbed his face.

‘How dare you! Can’t you see he’s going through as much pain as you are!’ defended Donna.

The woman huffed and pointed a finger at her brother.

‘He was under the influence and I heard was drag racing according to a bunch of people who saw them speeding down Summit Avenue that night! He killed my sister!’

‘No-one thought this would happen.’

‘Yes, well his recklessness cost me my only sibling’s life. I’ll see you in court, John. I’m going to take everything away from you and make you suffer for what you did!’ she said in disgust.

‘I did tell her marrying you was a bad idea. Well, sadly it’s her and not you who’s dead, along with your friend.’

‘He killed my son. Jack was always an idiot, around him,’ started Jack’s mother.

‘I always told him, this Scottish bloke was a bad influence. Now by sweet baby is gone!’

‘You can join me in court and have him charged for murder, Mrs. Harkness. Get the justice our loved ones deserve.’

The old woman nodded in agreement. John said nothing, as Donna tried talking sense into their heads.

The rest of the after-funeral events went by quickly. Donna called a cleaning crew to have the entire house tidied up, while John disappeared into his room. He lay on the bed and sighed. The sheets still smelt of River’s perfume. The nightly concoction she always insisted on wearing before bed, demanding it set the mood before they made love for hours, eventually collapsing from exhaustion and have sleep wash over them seconds later.

He stroked her side of the mattress, thinking of all the happy times they had. Two years. That’s all the time they had together as a married couple. A sob escaped his lips, as he assumed a foetal position, pulling his legs tightly into his chest as the tears soaked through his bandages. He hugged her pillow and bawled into the soft fabric, his pain and guilt consuming him. Her sister was right. He was a murderer. He should have known better. They were dead because of him and there was nothing he could do.

Vastra was a lawyer and a very good one, in fact. She and John never liked one another but because of his marriage to River, they agreed to be on good terms, because of her. Now she was pissed, along with Jack’s mother and he knew within his heart, that they were going to take everything from him and so help him God, he had no strength to fight, because he felt he deserved it. He needed to be punished for his actions. He did not deserve to be alive or have any happiness, anymore.

\-----------------

Two weeks later

Dr. Martha Jones slowly unravelled the bandage from around John’s eyes. 

‘Okay, open them slowly,’ she instructed.

He did as told and stared at her.

‘What do you see?’

He blinked once, twice.

‘N-nothing…’

Her face tensed and she immediately drew a flashlight from her lab coat and flashed them into his eyes. She looked at him sadly and frowned, replacing the device in her pocket.

‘I’m afraid I have some bad news for you, Mr. Smith,’ she said, softly.

‘I won’t see again, will I?’ he asked, cutting to the chase.

‘I’m very sorry. We did all that we could…’

‘Save the sympathy. I deserve this. This is my punishment.’

Dr. Jones shook her head, in disagreement.

‘Nobody deserves to be robbed of their sight. Even you and you had no control of what happened. Don’t blame yourself. I can set you up with a councillor to help you with your situation, if you like.’

He did not answer.

‘Your sister is here to pick you up. I’ll have a nurse walk you out to the waiting room.’

As the musician entered the common room, Donna hugged him tight and looked at him hopefully. He showed no emotion and she flicked her gaze to the nurse who instantly shook his head. 

‘Y-You’re really blind?’ she asked carefully.

He pursed his lips together and pushed past her, stumbling over the carpet. The brunette caught him in time, before he impacted with the floor and said to him,’ I’m so sorry…’

‘Why is everyone so damn sympathetic!’ he growled at her, angrily.

‘I don’t want it!’

She looked at him sadly and sighed.

‘Fine. I won’t be nice then and I suppose I better tell you now, as you’re all worked up. You got a court order in a week. River and Jack’s family are suing you for their deaths in the accident and the cost is everything you own or life in jail or both.’

John stiffened, the vein on his forehead popping up more than usual.

‘You better find yourself a good lawyer, brother,’ his younger sibling warned, and pulled him in the direction of the door.


	3. The final decision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! 
> 
> So, I'm going to be making a couple time jumps in between this and the next chapter to speed up the story and not take too much time on the less important stuff. I feel so sorry for John. Poor guy.
> 
> Let's see what happens with him and the court order with his sister-in-law!

Chapter 3

John raked both his hands through his hair and buried his face in them, as the judge pounded the gavel, indicating the end of two months’ worth of endless tug-o-war between him and his deceased wife and best friend’s families. Life was truly out for him. Despite accepting to face the consequences, he was not prepared for this one.

‘Well now, although I had hoped you’d rot in prison also, taking everything away from you is almost as satisfying dearest, brother-in-law,’ crooned Vastra with a snarky grin.

‘Have fun finding a place to stay… maybe if you go down on your knees and beg for my forgiveness for killing my sister, then maybe I’ll return your stuff too… after all, all you own right now is what you are wearing.’

John gritted his teeth, ‘Fuck you, Vastra. I accept my fate as it is, but you did not have to be so goddamn disgusting and take my things too!’

She lifted a brow at him.

‘If you wanted the house, I’d have signed it over to you and handed you the keys. If you wanted River’s money, I’d given you the account number and password. But for God’s sake, I’m already blind as it is, which is enough to make me suffer for what happened!’

His sister-in-law narrowed her eyes at him.

‘You should have died. That would have been enough for me. But you’re alive and I’m going to make sure you suffer for the rest of your life. Good luck finding somewhere to live, you old fool!’

John growled in anger at her, to which she gave a bitter chuckle and strode off towards the door. Jack’s mother followed after her, giving him a cold, stern stare before leaving.  
Donna lay a hand on her brother’s shoulder, her lips pursed after overhearing the conversation.

‘You can stay with me for a bit. I’ll talk to Vastra and see if she can at least allow me to get back some of your belongings.’

The musician nodded weakly, his head beginning to pound with the day’s events.

‘Thank you, Donna.’

\----------------------------  
‘I’m sorry, but you’re gonna have to sleep on the couch for a bit, till I can source you an apartment of your own and maybe a caretaker to look after you, since I won’t be around most of the times,’ Donna explained.

‘Thanks…’ the silver headed man, mumbled.

His younger sibling handed him a piping hot bowl of stew.

‘Have something to eat. You’ve had a rough day.’

He took the spoon and scooped some of the liquid, spilling most of the contents over himself before getting the remainder into his mouth. He swore under his breath and tried again. After the third time, he tossed the spoon across the room and shouted angrily at himself. Why did things have to happen the way they did? Why did his friends die and not him? Why was Vastra such a bitch? Why did he have to be blind and suffer for the rest of his days?

‘Hey! I got a kid sleeping upstairs! Watch your language!’ scolded Donna, taking up the piece of silverware and ceramic bowl from the floor.

‘I-I’m sorry… I need some air…’ he stated and stood up.

He attempted navigating his way throughout the cluttered living room, bouncing into the various furniture and even walking into the wall. Donna took him by the arm and walked him out to the backyard patio and sat her brother down.

‘I’ll get you a doctor and we’ll sort you out. There’s a Blind Welfare Association not too far from where I work. I can talk to them and they can help you cope with your situation.’

‘No. I do this on my own,’ he replied, stubbornly.

‘It’ll take some time to get used to this, John. I really think you should- ‘

‘NO!’ he shouted at her.

She slapped him hard across the face.

‘Don’t you ever raise your voice at me in my own home, especially in the presence of my child. Are we clear? I am here to help you and I am the only person you have who is willing to, whether you like it or not!’

The doctor flared his nostrils.

‘And if you continue like this, I’ll bloody have no mercy on you and put you on the damn streets!’

The closing of the front door, caught her attention and she quickly smoothed her shirt.

‘That’ll be Christian. Behave yourself or else, you’ll be homeless and nobody is going to be there to take care of you,’ the brunette warned and went in search of her husband.  
\-------------------------------------

One week later

John felt a small body climb atop of him, followed by a sharp pain on his shoulder and another from his head.

‘OW!’ he yelped as his glazed eyes shot open and he immediately sat up. The beer cans around him clattered on the floor, rousing the pounding headache he fell asleep with.

His little niece Melody giggled mischievously at him, holding a few strands of his silver hair in her hand.

‘Really, Melody? Can’t you see Uncle is trying to sleep?!’ he scolded.

She pouted and stuck her tongue out at him. He stuck his back at her and she laughed happily.

‘Can you play with me, Uncle Johnny?’ she asked, sweetly.

‘No. Ask your mother.’

‘Pleaseeeee!!!’ she begged.

He rolled his eyes and moments before he gave to her cute little voice, Donna walked into the room.

‘Mama!’ the little girl squealed and ran towards her.

The woman picked her up and placed a kiss atop her head.

‘Daddy’s got ice cream in the kitchen,’ she whispered and set her down, chuckling as she scrambled off for the desert.

‘She bit you hard…’ the pudgy female noted, observing the red bite mark on his shoulder.

‘Not very arousing when it’s your own blood,’ he spat and rubbed at the spot.

She grinned and handed him a suitcase and a maroon shaded guitar.

‘I bounced into Vastra this morning. Saw her dumping your stuff into barrels on the front lawn and setting them on fire.’

John groaned and sank back into his seat.

‘I talked her into letting me have the remainder of your stuff before she torched it to smithereens.’

‘Thanks, sis,’ he said gratefully before she placed the guitar into his hands.

The old man gasped as he felt the musical instrument in his palms and caressed it slowly.

‘Stella,’ he whispered.

‘What?’ his sibling asked confused.

‘This was the first item River gave me for our one-year anniversary. I named it Stella… it was her middle name,’ he explained, thoughtfully.

‘Good thing Vastra didn’t know, else she’d have kept it.’

‘Now, amongst other things… I will not tolerate your drinking in my house. This is the third time this week I’ve had to clean up your pile of beer cans and where the hell did you get a bottle of whiskey?!’

‘My secret,’ he slurred, giving a sheepish grin.

‘I swear to God John, if I so much as see you stumble into my house drunk again, I’ll kick you out!’

‘I haven’t been drunk since my accident,’ he defended.

‘Oh really? Since you moved in here for the past week, you’ve been guzzling beer. You’ve been drunk almost every day since the court case! Drinking is not a good coping mechanism!’

‘No idea, what you’re talking about,’ he chuckled.

‘This is a last warning, John. It’s not healthy for Melody and I know when you take it to another level, you get very aggressive and I will not have you hurt her or Christian or myself, in your stupor, understood?’ she barked.

‘I’d never hurt your family, Don,’ he answered, hurt.

‘You better not.’

Donna rolled her eyes at her brother and stomped off, clearly tired of his habits. John did not heed her words and when her footsteps were no longer in earshot, he produced the bottle of whiskey he had hidden under his blanket on the couch and took a long, hard swig. Nothing numbed the pain and the memories more than the alcohol. Donna just didn’t understand and probably never would.


	4. Street Musician

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's introduce another important character, shall we?

Chapter 4

John sat next to the window, the dull light from the overcast sky illuminating his face. He hugged Stella tightly, as the nurse came to do her routine check of his vitals and administer his medicine. It was three years now, since Donna had kicked him out her house. She had warned him but he took her for granted; drinking twice as much. One afternoon the guilt took him so bad, he downed a bottle of whiskey and was so drunk, he relieved himself on her couch and living room carpet. After that, he had a wild memory of making love to River in the back of their car and attempted to jerk off on the spot.

Donna had walked in on him ten minutes into his session, and the scene was so appalling; she immediately called her husband. They both dragged him to the shower upstairs, doused him in cold water, packed his things and sent him straight to a visually impaired nursing home. Donna paid the required fees to register him and jacked them up with his account information for continued funding in the near future, till he could no longer afford to stay.

Thankfully the court only ordered the house and River’s belongings, including financial transactions and accounts to be transferred to her sister. If they had taken John’s money as well, he’d be as good as homeless… then again, in this scenario he sort of was, wasn’t he? He had tried to contact a bunch of friends he had, but you only know your true friends when you need them. No-one answered or return his calls and after a few weeks of trying, he accepted that everyone had turned their backs on him. 

‘How are you today, Mr Smith?’ asked the pretty blonde nurse.

He ignored her, turning his face towards the light.

‘I’m just going to take your blood pressure.’

When she was finished, she placed a small cup filled with medicine in his hand and waited till he drank it all and left.

He sighed deeply in his chair and cracked his neck, stroking the guitar. It took him a while, but he mastered playing the instrument without sight. Adapting to other things however, was a different story. His banker had called and found him a few months ago, informing of his near empty bank account and that he needed to do something fast to maintain the minimum balance, or risk bankruptcy and homelessness. 

The musician had wracked his brains for a solution, till he decided to use his old profession as a means of acquiring some money. He attempted applying at various bars and pubs as a live performer, but they already had their own band or no interest in having a blind fellow work for them. Eventually, he decided to play his tunes in the bustling streets, which didn’t pay much but the generosity of some people on rare days made ends meet.

He climbed out his seat, tossed on his jacket and shades, and grabbed his walking stick. 

‘Good luck, today!’ wished the same nurse who tended to him a few minutes before, as he walked out the room.

\----------------------  
The streets were busier than normal today, based on the undying sounds of traffic, footsteps and overlapping conversations of passing pedestrians. John had been playing for an hour now and by the sounds of it, business was slow. Very slow. He felt around in his guitar case, counting his earnings by touch. Only five pounds in coins. Lovely. What could that buy him? He ended the song and tuned his guitar for the next gig he had prepared.

‘When are you coming home, Danny?’ asked a soft female voice that caught his attention, seconds before he resumed playing.

‘It’s been two months! Can’t the company give you a break and send you back to me? I miss you. You’re never home!’

He caught a whiff of the person’s perfume, a lovely jasmine scent.

‘I don’t care! I can’t handle this long-distance relationship. You’re barely here and when you are, you’re either working or too tired to spend time with me!’ she argued.

John sat up straight on his wooden box seat and turned in the direction of the voice.

‘I’m not being selfish! You are! You know what, just forget it. Do whatever you want!’

The click of a phone, indicated the end of what was a phone conversation. The person was clearly upset and were they crying…? He swore he heard sniffles if he were listening carefully enough. Oh well, not his problem, he thought. However, it was strange. Hearing the woman argue like that, reminded him of River, yelling at him for working too late when he should be resting, because she believed it was bad for his health.

The memory made a wave of sadness wash over him and he clutched the pick tightly as he began his new song. It was soft and slow. A song he had written just for his dead wife. A tribute to her and their love. He felt his eyes well up and put all his emotions into the tune; sending every hint of sadness, lonliness, despair and anger through every string. When he finished, he was rewarded by a soft clap.

He looked in the direction of the sound.

‘That was beautiful,’ came the same female voice from before.

John huffed at her.

‘Well instead of clapping, put some notes in the case. That would be more rewarding that a darn compliment,’ he spat.

The woman frowned at him and crossed her arms.

‘Didn’t anyone ever tell you, whenever someone gives you a compliment, you say thank you?’ she scolded.

‘Yeah, my grandmother and thankfully the old hag is dead. So, put some cash in the pot there or fuck off!’

The lady scoffed at him.

‘I hope you do realize that your attitude affects your customers, kind sir. Clearly you’re not having much luck today or your business is falling flat.’

‘Listen lass, I ain’t got all day. Time is money here. Get lost!’ he barked, annoyed.

Instead of being pissed off, the woman found herself rather amused by his words. Quickly, she dipped into her pocket and pulled out a twenty pound note and tucked it into his jacket pocket.

‘For your troubles, sir. Have a nice day.’

‘Piss off,’ he replied and began his next song.

She chuckled and took one last glance at him before walking away. It was only then she caught the walking stick propped up beside him, partially hidden beneath his coat. She felt pity overtake her. Being blind was not the most pleasant conditions to live under, and she was grateful she was not in a snarky mood after her argument with her boyfriend to tell the old man off. Judging from his tatty clothes and worn shoes, he must have been pretty down and out a while now, barely making ends meet. Despite that, he was quite talented and never recalled seeing him in these parts of London. Maybe he was a travelling musician?

‘Good morning, Clara,’ greeted her co-worker as she walked into the small bakery a few streets away from where the man was playing.

She smiled sweetly and returned the greeting.

‘Morning. Anything for me?’

‘One huge catering job for a baby shower. They want three dozen frosted buns, four boxes of doughnuts and a large double chocolate fudge cake.’

‘For a baby shower?!’

The older lady nodded at her.

‘Well, let the day begin!’ she said more to herself than to her fellow workmate.

As she worked her way into the dough, she found her mind drifting to the blind musician she met earlier and couldn’t help but wonder where he came from and how his situation came to be.


	5. Fifty Pounds

Chapter 5

John guzzled the last can of beer he purchased and stumbled along the pavement to his usual gig location. Maybe he shouldn’t have purchased that six pack. He really needed to pay the rest of the fees he owed to the home. It didn’t matter anymore. Sooner or later they were going to kick him out. He was already three months behind and his life’s savings were near empty after clearing the three months before that. Despite how much he played, it wasn’t paying off. At a rate of ten pounds a day, he could barely afford to pay a week’s rent with the total of everything he currently made.

With the help of a kind citizen directing him to his destination, he produced a battered folding chair and had a seat. He whipped out his guitar, took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Hopefully, just hopefully, today would be a good day. With his right hand, he began to pick at the strings, carefully easing it into a soft melody. He wasn’t up for any noisy tunes, today. His heart was shriveled and cold and only liquor numbed his pain. Today it hit harder than the rest, and only the saddest of songs filled his mind, controlling the position and movement of his fingers.

The sound of pennies hitting the inner wall of his guitar case gave him incentive to keep playing… and play he did. 

‘Why the sad song, today?’ came a female voice.

It sounded familiar; until he recognized the jasmine scented perfume that accompanied it.

‘You gonna old talk again? Put some money in or-‘

He was cut short when she stuffed a few pound notes into his front jacket pocket.

‘I believe I paid for your time there, now we can talk,’ she said, with a hint of amusement.

He scowled and set his guitar down, pulling out the notes and feeling at them.

‘It’s fifty pounds,’ said Clara.

He raised an eyebrow at her.

‘I hope this isn’t blind welfare compensation,’ he spat.

She shook her head and sighed.

‘You really don’t have to be so mean, you know. I appreciate your honest attempt at making some money,’ she began.

‘And how you spend all day, playing those wonderful tunes. Some depressing but beautifully played.’

He scoffed.

‘I don’t know what happened to you, to be like this… but this shouldn’t put you down Mr…?’

‘I don’t give my name out to random women, although I’m flattered lass,’ he drawled.

‘I’ll just call you Mr. Sunglasses, then,’ she said with a shrug.

He furrowed his brows at her and grimaced at the name.

‘It’s that or Mr. Space Hobo.’

‘Call me whatever you want. I just need yours and other people money to keep me alive, ok?’

Clara folded her arms and looked at him sadly. She had been observing him for the past month since he began playing a few streets from her bakery. It was truly unfortunate to see someone at this age, be so bitter and mean when they should be happy, celebrating life with friends and family. She took in his clothes, all worn and dirty. His hair looked like it hadn’t seen shampoo in ages, his beard grey like his head and unkempt. Underneath his oversized hoodie and t shirt, he must’ve been quite skinny as well. His pale skin looked unhealthy, his face hollow. The only thing that looked up to condition was his guitar… his prized possession.

‘Ah Doctor, you drove off your best customer,’ he mumbled to himself.

Clara frowned, realizing seconds later he had assumed she left.

‘You should be kinder to people who are so generous,’ he scolded at himself.

‘River would’ve beat the shit out of you for how you treated that woman. Twice she gave you a shitload of money, and you piss her off, instead of thanking her. What an idiot.’  
The tiny brunette smiled at him. So, he wasn’t so bitter after all, she thought and he called himself ‘Doctor’. 

The undeniable sound of his empty stomach quickly made her smile fade. He clutched his belly and patted it.

‘Sorry pal, need to give these earnings to the home, else I’m on the streets by tonight if I can’t produce some cash. Besides, you know how the home underfeeds me.’

The Doctor took up the guitar and tuned it.

‘Can’t afford anymore beer, today. Really should be good and pay my debts…’

The small woman bowed her head and slowly walked away. Life must be harder than she believed it to be, for the Doctor. Hopefully the money she gave him, would suffice.

\-----

‘Why the sad look?’ asked Grandma Oswald, from behind the cash register, as Clara walked in.

‘Grandma! What are you doing here?!’ exclaimed the young woman, excitedly.

‘Thought I’d give my only granddaughter a visit.’

Clara wrapped her arms around her grandma and gave her a big hug.

‘Now to answer my question. Why do you look so sad? Is it that Danny, again?’

The little lady chuckled and raked a hand through her hair.

‘No. Danny and I are… fine,’ she lied.

‘Then what’s the problem, sweetheart? I don’t like seeing you down.’

‘There’s a blind musician a few streets from here…’

‘Oh yes, the homeless man with the guitar. I saw him.’

‘He began playing there a month ago and he’s so mean and rude yet… he looks so sad and I can’t help but wonder what caused him to be in this situation.’

‘Oh dear, you shouldn’t be concerned over matters you cannot fix or concern you. He’s there because he must’ve done something to have himself in that position,’ her grandma explained.

‘I don’t think so. I heard him talking to himself and he really isn’t as bad as he portrays himself to be… although I’ve only spoken to him like… twice.’

‘He talks to himself? My dear, be careful around him. You’re a very pretty girl and the last thing you need is to be friendly with a homeless man who for all you know, uses the money you give him for drugs!’

‘I don’t think it’s like that grandma and I think he lives at a nursing home. If I can find out where, then maybe I can find out more about him and help him…’

‘Clara. Stop. Whatever it is you plan to do, is a bad idea okay? I know you have a very kind heart, my dear but getting involved in helping people like him may be dangerous.’  
‘He’s blind. What harm can he do me?’

‘I just want you to be careful. Give donations if you think it will help him, but that’s it. Don’t get too close. You have such a big heart, sometimes it may be too big that it could get you in trouble.’

Grandma Oswald stroked her granddaughter’s hand and smiled at her. Clara nodded, agreeing that what she said made sense, but it was strange. Something about that man intrigued her and for what reason, she didn’t know. Hopefully he’d open up to her eventually and looked like he could use a friend. After all, Danny was never around and perhaps the fact that she felt lonely all the time, was the exact same thing she felt from him and his music. After all, like attracts like.


	6. Debt

Chapter 6

John groaned as he felt something poking his side, an annoyance to the restful sleep he was having and his happy dream of a life he once had with his best friend and wife, all singing on stage and having a blast.

‘Oh for fuck’s sake…’ he groaned and turned onto his back.

He opened his eyes, and was met with the home manager’s angry voice.

‘Mr Smith,’ he began, ‘I’m here to personally tell you, that you are three months behind on your payments and based on your financial status, you no longer have sufficient funds to continue your stay.’

Shit. This was bad.

‘I’ll get you the money. I’m just not getting much lately from my music,’ John stated.

‘I do not care. Judging from the dozens of beer cans under your bed and by your feet, I am aware you do make some earnings, enough to pay for two weeks!’

‘If I gave you all I made in a day, I’d have nothing to buy something to eat!’

‘We provide food for you here, Mr. Smith.’

‘Food for dogs, you mean,’ he spat.

The head figure narrowed his eyes at him.

‘If you cannot produce five hundred pounds at the end of the day to pay us, then don’t bother coming back. Is that clear?’

‘Where will I go then? I have no place to stay!’

‘There’s a homeless shelter not far from here. I’m sure they’ll be charitable towards the blind.’

John swore at the man as his footsteps grew softer, the further he walked away. He needed to find some cash and fast. He quickly got out of bed, grabbed his walking stick and Stella and headed for the door.

Bad luck was just on John’s side, today. The moment he arrived at his spot, the rain began to pour and any possible customers he’d have, were all sheltering in the nearby shops. He scrambled out of his rickety seat and attempted to gather his belongings, but his untied shoelace sent him crashing into the pavement. He grumbled and picked himself up, completely soaked now. He heard footsteps zoom past him; loud cries of protest from pedestrians loathing the current weather. 

John felt around the ground for his stick and Stella. A passer-by, crashed into him without apology, kicking the guitar a few feet from him, by accident. The old musician groaned in frustration, trying to find his instrument, when the rain suddenly stopped battering his skin, and a small hand gripped his, pulling him to his feet. He frowned, trying to find his balance, before that jasmine perfume hit him like a brick wall. 

‘Are you alright?’ asked Clara, gently.

Not today. He wasn’t up for conversation, today. He needed to find his guitar and get five hundred pounds soon, or he’d be in the homeless shelter tonight.

‘Stella,’ he said under his breath.

‘Your guitar?’ she asked, slowly.

‘Yes. Have you seen it?’

She smiled and handed it to him. He grabbed it from her grasp and clutched it tightly.

‘Why don’t you come inside and ride out the weather? It’s warm and comfy in my shop,’ the little lady offered.

‘I… I can’t...’ he said slowly and rushed off in the opposite direction, as she stared at him, disappearing in the white rain.

There was no way, he was going to be able to pay the home. He couldn’t perform a gig in this weather. Who’d patronize him when it was cold and wet? There was only one thing left to do and he hated himself for the idea, but it was this or sleep outside amongst, other hobos.

\--------------------  
Clara flipped the sign on her shop’s main door and turned off the lights. It was a slow day for business. Quite unusual, but maybe it was the weather.   
Hello, you have reached Danny Pink. I’m sorry, I can’t come to the phone right now, but if you leave me a message, I’ll be sure to call you back. The brunette sighed and flung her phone across the table. It’d been two weeks since their last conversation and he hadn’t bothered to text or call her. She missed him and was worried about him, yet he showed no attempt to extend the olive branch. Sometimes she wondered why she even continued to be in a failing relationship with a man who was barely ever around.

The small woman pulled her coat taut against her body and walked out into the chilly night air. She needed to clear her head and a little stroll usually did the trick. The banging of a garbage can from the approaching alley made her stop in her tracks, followed by the sound of punches being landed. She had half a mind to turn around and walk away but something told her to do the opposite and she slowly inched her way towards the dark corner. Two men bolted from the darkness and zoomed past her, one of them dropping a plastic object.

She released a shaky breath, suddenly feeling uneasy. The baker took the small item up off the floor and realized it was a driver’s license. In the dim light, she could not mistake the face on the card. It was the rude musician. He looked a lot younger in this photo, cleanly shaved and his name was John Smith.

A soft moan caught her attention and she quickly shoved the piece of plastic into her coat pocket.

‘Hello?’ she called, carefully.

‘Help…’ said a voice.

She rounded the corner and peeked into the darkness. There was a figure lying on the floor, clutching their stomach. It took her a few seconds to realize who it was.

‘Oh my God! Are you alright?!’ she cried, as she rushed to his side and helped him up.

‘T-They robbed me… I needed that money… d-don’t want to sleep in the shelter tonight…’ he moaned, his voice cracking.

‘You’re not going to sleep in a shelter or on the streets tonight, sir. I promise you that. Let’s get you to the hospital.’

‘No! No hospitals!’ he shouted, squirming against her hold on his wrist.

‘Okay, okay just calm down. No hospitals it is. My flat’s a few streets from here. Can you walk?’ she asked, trying to keep her composure.

‘Yes,’ he whispered, tears streaming down his eyes.

On shaky feet, he grabbed his broken stick and with Clara as his guide, they made their way to her home. Miss Oswald knew her grandma would disapprove of her kindness but she couldn’t leave him battered and beaten in the cold, like that. It was inhumane and with her naturally sweet and helpful nature, she’d open her home to anyone who needed help. Her grandma always warned her, but she couldn’t leave the poor man in that rut. No, she was going to do the right thing. What could possibly go wrong? It’s not like she was attracted to him or anything.


	7. Kindness

Chapter 7

John woke up to the smell of coffee and the clattering of plates in the distance. His head hurt and he felt warm and cozy… almost as if he were back in his old bed. He shrugged off the fuzzy blanket that covered him and slowly sat up. 

‘Good morning!’ greeted a cheerful voice.

‘Ugh… you,’ he grumbled disdainfully, instantly recognizing the feminine voice.

Clara pouted at him, holding a cup of coffee and a plate of scrambled eggs and a bagel.

‘I believe that’s not the way you thank someone for helping you, sir.’

John groaned and lay back down, covering his face with the fuzzy fabric.

‘Go away. Why do I keep ending up in conversations with you?’ 

She simply shrugged at him and set the mug and plate down, before taking a seat beside him.

‘You should eat something. I bet you’re hungry. I’ll take a look at your head after and see if it’s worth getting you a doctor.’

‘No. I’m leaving now,’ he hissed and attempted to stand up. 

He aimlessly headed in a random direction and tripped over the living room rug, landing face first. The brunette sighed and walked over to him.

‘Leave me alone!’ he growled, as she hooked her hands under his arms, to pull him to his feet.

‘Why are you being like this?! I just want to help you!’ she shot back.

‘Why the fuck do you want to help, a blind old fool like me?! You could’ve left me in the fucking alley and let me rot, like I am supposed to!’

‘You’re not a fool and you certainly do not deserve to be left injured in an alley in the wet and cold, like a dog.’

‘You think life’s going to deal you a better deck of cards for being nice to an old homeless man like me? Is that it? Huh?’ the silvered man, spat.

‘No. I just saw you needed help and was there at the right place at the right time to do so,’ Clara said firmly.

John gritted his teeth. This woman infuriated him. There was no telling why… also there was no reason behind why she ticked him off. All she had done was extend absolute kindness to him. She donated generously when he played, complimented his music and now she tended to his injuries after he got mugged in an alleyway, even going as far to shelter him for the night, feed him and give him fresh clothes. How was he repaying her? By being an asshole, that’s how.

He hung his head and took a deep breath.

‘Look lass, I’m someone you shouldn’t keep around. I’m foul mouthed and ill tempered. I’m not good company for someone… nice…’

Clara chuckled at his words and shook her head, ‘I don’t think you’re like this because you want to be. I think you’re like this because of circumstances.’

John furrowed his eyebrows at her words. There wasn’t exactly any falseness in her words. It was all true. He was never a mean old fart, but with everything that happened, he let bitterness and lonliness consume him, which now masked his true self. Was it possible that this woman, saw past the ugly and saw the man behind the mask? Impossible. People don’t do that. She was just taking pity on him, he thought.

‘Pretty words,’ he snapped, folding his arms.

The small smile she wore, faded. 

‘John Smith. That’s your name, right?’ she asked, changing the direction of their banter.

‘How do you know that?’ he asked, suspiciously.

‘I found your driver’s license on the pavement moments after you got robbed,’ she explained.

‘I looked up your name in the phone book and made some calls. Seems you don’t have any family around town… so I asked people around the shops you play, if they knew where you lived currently. I was guided to the St. Victoria’s home for the handicapped and blind, ten minutes from your gig spot.’

The musician flared his nostrils at the name of his now former home.

‘And? What else did you find out about me?’ he asked warily.

He held his breath, awaiting the words he hadn’t heard in years. You killed your wife and best friend. Your sister-in-law took you for all you had and your sister kicked you out of her house and put you in a home, he thought.

‘That you can’t pay for the rest of your stay and owed money.’

‘Yeah. I owe them five hundred pounds,’ he grumbled.

‘God decided to open the fucking heavens and let it pour everywhere. Now I’m fucking homeless and can’t pay my debt and if they feel like it, they can get the police to find me and throw me in jail!’

The little lady looked at him sadly. This poor man had it hard and she had the strongest urge to take his hand and tell him it was going to be alright, but she knew better than to do so. She barely knew him but was determined to help. Why? Why did she want to help him so much? She couldn’t find an answer.

‘Do you have a plan?’ she asked, softly.

He shook his head, rubbing his temples with his forefingers.

‘I’ll pay off your debt… to the home…’ she found herself saying, before thinking about it first.

‘Why… would you do that…?’

‘Because you need the help… but I’ll do it only under one condition,’ she bargained.

John cocked an eyebrow.

‘You need to get yourself together. I need help in my bakery. My co-worker and employee Francine is pregnant and I’m going to be needing an extra hand.’

He huffed at her, ‘And having a blind man take her place is going to help?’

‘I’ll find duties for you Mr. Smith. I’ll pay you and deduct a sum each month towards a till, which will go towards your debt. Deal?’

For once, he was at a loss for words. This woman must be heaven sent, he thought. Randomly helping a stranger and giving him a job, seeing past his inability to see and yet she was once again granting him so much kindness. What had he done to deserve this?

‘Well?’

‘I’ll do it…’ he said, slowly, ‘but … is there a catch to it…?’

‘No. I just need the extra hand and I would appreciate if you kept the swearing to yourself and be polite to my customers.’

‘Where will I stay?’

‘I got a spare room across from my bedroom. You can sleep there.’

‘Do I pay rent…?’

‘I won’t charge you for lodging. Let’s focus on your debt first. However, I want to make one thing clear. If you ever try anything funny on me, my workers or customers, be disrespectful of any kind, I will call the police and hand you over without a second thought. Is that clear?’

He stood still, letting her words sink in. At least she had a good head on her shoulders, despite her huge generosity and found himself smirking.

‘It’s a deal Miss…?’

‘Clara. Clara Oswald… but you can call me Clara.’

He nodded and shook her hand, binding their agreement.

‘You should eat your breakfast. It’s getting cold,’ she said sternly and walked him over to the couch and sat him down.

‘I’ll go speak with the home’s manager and make some arrangements,’ she stated, grabbing her coat.

Clara clutched the lapels of her shirt and leant her back against the front door. Was she out of her mind? She just agreed to help a complete stranger and one with a large debt. 

‘Clara Oswald, your kind heart will get you in trouble,’ she scolded at herself. 

She bolted down the stairs and exited through the bakery’s backdoor. It was still chilly outside with a hint of rain, thankfully. Her mind began racing as she thought of a way to bargain with the home’s manager to release John of his debt or work a plan for him to pay it off. 

A pretty blonde woman led her to the higher up’s office, after signing in. She took a deep breath and knocked carefully, before entering. The man froze upon seeing the pretty lady standing in his doorway. She gave him a small smile and greeted him with words he never thought he’d hear again, ‘Hi, Dad.’


	8. Payment

Chapter 8

David Oswald looked at his daughter with awe. The last time he had seen her was ten years ago, on her twentieth birthday. His mother had invited him to her little party, thinking it’d be a good idea to mend the rift that grew between the two after his wife had passed away a couple years before.

‘Clara…’ he whispered, his eyes shining bright with delight.

‘W-what breeze has blown you here?’

She gave a small smile and folded her arms, leaning against the door frame.

‘Please, come in and sit down,’ he ushered and rose from his seat, pulling a chair out for her to sit.

She took the small gesture graciously and sat down on the hardwood surface, with her father making himself comfortable atop his desk.

‘How have you been?’ he asked curiously.

‘Good. Grandma pays me visits every now and then, to make sure I’m eating right and not working too hard.’

‘Ah. I hope you’re well. How’s that young fellow of yours? She told me you had a boyfriend. What was his name again?’

‘Danny… he’s fine. We’re fine,’ she lied.

‘Good…good…’ he answered shaking his head and racking his brain for something to say.

‘So, back to my previous question. What breeze brings you here? Last time I saw you, was at your twentieth back in Blackpool. I had no idea you moved to London till two months ago, thanks to your grandma and I have no idea where you live in this big city! We should get together for tea sometime you an-‘

Clara put her hand up and cut him short of his sentence. He frowned as her expression changed. The pleasantness she tried to uphold, was crumbling and he knew by the look on her face, that she didn’t come for small talk… or perhaps to say hello, after all this time. No, it had to be something serious.

‘Does a John Smith reside here?’ she asked, bluntly.

How could he forget the old drunken fart, with the ridiculous guitar and plaid trousers.

‘What about him?’ he said, raising an eyebrow. It was odd she had asked about him. Maybe she had bounced into him and he caused her trouble? Oh, if he had touched his daughter, he would personally make him suffer, he thought to himself.

‘I heard you kicked him out of your establishment.’

‘I did,’ he replied, shamelessly.

‘He’s blind!’

‘So? Clara, he owes the home money and I can’t let him stay here if he hasn’t paid his fees. It would look bad if I cut him slack and not be easy on the others all the same, because they would expect the same treatment.’

‘Fair point, but he’s blind… can’t you have found a better solution than kicking him out of the home, because he can’t pay? A homeless shelter is not an option!’

‘Why do you care so much for this person, Clara?’ he asked authoritatively.

Clara was taken aback by his tone. This was one of the many reasons she hated to converse with him. This strong aura to control and dominate.

‘Do you even know him? You always had a soft spot for helping those in need. I hope you are not planning to help this man. He’s a nuisance and God knows what he is capable of. Tell me you haven’t helped him!’

‘What I do is my business! If I feel like being kind to someone, then leave it be,’ she spat.

He took a deep breath and sighed. The last thing he wanted was to end another conversation with his only child, badly. The last time they met, it ended with an argument. Seems it was turning out to be the same way again.

‘Clara… please let’s not fight…’ he began, ‘I know you still blame me for your mother’s death…’

‘Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare, mention her!’

‘Clara I-‘

She held up her hand to stop him once more and dug in her purse. She whipped out her wallet and produced two hundred pounds.

‘What’s this?’ he asked, surprised.

‘Mr. Smith’s debt to you. I’ll have the other three hundred pounds ready for you before the month is up. Good day.’

She immediately made her way for the door.

‘Clara! Please… I do miss her as much as you do and I regret everyday, that I should have been there to help her… don’t hate me for it. I just want us to be close again.’  
The little lady shook her head and glared at him, ‘Until you stop worshiping the mighty dollar dad, then maybe we can be friends. You let it rule and corrupt you and mother saw it, but you didn’t listen…’

‘I know…’

‘Do you? Do you, really? You kicked out a blind old man who was trying to pay his debt. Isn’t that cruel enough?’

‘You live in a bubble, my child. The world is not as innocent as you think it or want it to be. He owed, he couldn’t make the payment and hence he had to face the consequences. You’re a grown woman, you should know this,’ he hissed.

‘And you shouldn’t have watched every penny when mother needed her surgery and was dying on that hospital bed,’ she snapped, bitterly.

David Oswald froze in his spot, the words hitting him hard. For once, in a very long time, he was speechless.

‘You’ll never change. Your heart is made of stone and anywhere I see someone in need of help, I try to do so, because it reminds me of how mom suffered because of you and how helpless I felt and how she must've felt,’ she whispered all too calmly.

Before he could utter another word, she stomped out the room without looking back.

\------------------

Clara walked into her little flat, located above her bakery and slammed the door shut. She slowly leant against the door and slunk to the floor, before breaking into silent sobs.

‘Hello?’ called John, making his way towards her.

‘It’s just me,’ she said, trying hard to sound alright.

‘Are you crying?’ he asked.

‘No, not at all. Is everything alright?’

‘Yeah. Heard the door and thought it was a burglar or something. Anyway, need to hit the loo. I’ll try not to mess it up,’ he announced before asking Clara for directions.

The brunette watched as he padded off to the bathroom and closed her eyes. Tomorrow is a new day and one can only move forward. Positive thoughts only, she told herself. Positive thoughts. She picked up her phone and dialled Danny once more, which went straight to voice mail. Slowly she ended the call and peered out the window. Was he ever going to come home? Was he ever going to choose her over his job? She didn’t know and it made her heart sink at how lonely she felt at that very moment.


	9. Make over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I had another fic idea hit me and I may start writing it in conjunction to this one... so if updates for this fic are delayed, I am sorry.

Chapter 9

‘You want me to greet customers…?’ groaned John, thinking of how ridiculous the idea was.

‘Yes,’ said Clara, bustling around the kitchen.

‘I’m blind. How the fuck do you expect me to even know when customers arrive and leave?’

‘You’ll hear the doorbell.’

‘What if it’s the same person entering and then leaving, so then what? I have to say welcome and bye as a way of greeting?’

Clara shook her head, a grin on her round face, as she sipped at her coffee.

‘You’ll figure it out. It’ll teach you a lesson, too.’

‘How?’ he asked, gripping the mug she placed in his palm, a few seconds before.

‘It’ll teach you to be nicer to people and have patience,’ she said smugly.

He scoffed and took a sip from his drink.

‘I don’t want to or be nice to people. I just want to have my debt lifted.’

Clara braced her tiny frame on the countertop and looked at the greying man.

‘Speaking of debt… I paid a third of your owing to the home, yesterday,’ she explained.

John grew silent, his face suddenly a bit tense. Clara was paying off his debt. This was really happening.

‘You ok?’ the brunette asked after a couple minutes.

‘Yeah… I’m fine…’ he said slowly, his mind far.

‘Did they say anything… about me?’

‘No. Nothing at all,’ she reassured.

The old man nodded and thought about the manager’s last words, before he had left in a desperate hurry to make ends meet. 

‘You know… if you don’t want to greet people, you could play your guitar and entertain them!’

He looked up at her, his eyes blue and unfocussed. She stared into them, the hue mesmerising and beautiful. 

‘I don’t have my guitar.’

‘Was it stolen, as well?’ the little lady asked, a hint of sadness in her voice.

‘No. I pawned it.’

‘Why would you do that?! It was a beautiful instrument!’

‘I needed the money,’ he countered, ‘I got three hundred pounds for it which was later beaten out of me.’

‘I’m sorry…’

He huffed and chugged the rest of his coffee down.

‘I don’t want your sympathy. It’s done and gone.’

‘Well, you have it whether you want it or now.’

Before John could utter a pissy comeback, the baker shrugged on her coat and smacked him at the back of his head.

‘OW! What the fuck was that for?!’

She smacked him again in the same spot.

‘What the hell?!’

‘I will not tolerate that kind of language, anymore. Everytime you swear, I’ll smack you.’

‘Abusive much?’ he growled.

She smirked at him.

‘Before you start, we need to work on your appearance…’

‘You got a problem with how I look now?’ he asked, disgruntled.

‘Well, yesterday you smelt like a garbage dumpster and today you look like a hobo… so yes. I’m taking you to the hairdresser.’

She did not wait for his protests or whining and instantly took him by the arm and guided him to the front door.

‘We’ll get you some new clothes, too.’

\-------------

 

Clothes shopping for a man was a lot easier than Clara thought. Despite having a boyfriend, she never bought male attire for Danny and it was very rare the couple spent time together, far less shopping. The little lady happily paid the cashier at the checkout and took up the shopping bags filled with fresh t shirts and trousers. John rubbed the back of his neck, feeling like he was taking advantage of her, especially after hearing the bill.

‘You really don’t have to go through the trouble, you know…’ he began.

‘It’s fine. Like I said, I’ll remove it from your pay, when you begin working for me.’

He still felt odd but did not press the matter further as she guided him into the hairdresser’s plush leather chair.

‘How do you want it?’ the older woman asked John.

‘I’ll let Clara decide,’ he said, hands folded in his lap.

She looked at the baker, awaiting a response.

‘Get rid of the beard, and trim off the top, but leave some floof.’

During the time she waited, Clara excused herself from the salon and decided to give Danny a call. As she was about to hang up, after her third attempt, he picked up.

‘Clara! Darling!’ he greeted, happily.

‘Danny… you picked up!’ she announced, in surprise.

‘Yes… I did. Listen, I can’t talk for very long. I’m sorry, but I have a meeting in the next five minutes.’

Clara’s face fell. Of course. He was just too busy all the time.

‘Clara?’ he called, after she went silent for a few moments.

‘I’m here… when are you coming home?’ she asked, hopefully.

There was a pause before he spoke, ‘They extended the conference to next week. The company also asked me to stay another week after to do some extra work for more pay. I said yes. This would help a great deal!’

Clara gritted her teeth.

‘Is the money more important than me, Danny?!’ she screamed into the phone.

‘Clara, I-‘

‘NO! I won’t hear it! This is not the first time or the second or even the third!’

‘Clara hear me out, I’-

She had no intention of hearing his lame excuses and disconnected without a second thought.

Her anger was shortly lived when she re-entered the salon and her eyes fell on John, cleanly shaved and hair cut not too low, and nicely styled. She gawked at him, taking in his features and felt the strangest feeling wash over her. There was no denying it. John Smith was very good looking. Her eyes darted between him and the hairdresser, who wore a mischievous grin.

‘Judging from the look on your face, I take it I did a good job,’ she commented.

Clara gave a weak smile and paid the woman.

‘How do I look?’ asked John, still seated in the chair.

‘Human. Absolutely human, once again.’

He scoffed and stood up. 

‘Take care of him. He seems sweet and is quite pretty,’ the older woman whispered in Clara’s ear before they left.

She had half a mind to tell her that they weren’t what she was perhaps thinking, but decided to leave it, as is. As the two individuals made their way down the street, she kept glancing at the silver haired lad and corrected herself. John Smith wasn’t good looking. He was drop dead gorgeous and the more she stared, the more handsome he appeared to her, with each passing second. Maybe just for this tiny part of the day, she was happy he was blind, because it was more than once she snuck a glance or two at him, as they carried about their business.


	10. Enlightenment

Chapter 10

Clara tied an apron around John’s slender body and pinned a name tag to the left strap.

‘Now you look official!’ she chimed, happily as she put her own on as well.

‘Why am I wearing an apron if I must greet customers?’ he asked, raking a hand through his hair.

‘Uniform and I should warn you, the apron is pink. All of them are and its definitely your colour,’ she teased.

John grimaced and swore under his breath.

‘Good morning, Clara!’ greeted Francine as she walked into the bakery’s kitchen.

‘Oh! I didn’t know you had company!’ she said with a wide grin, eyes raking over John’s body.

‘He’s our newest employee and the help, while you’re gone,’ she indulged.

John scowled at her use of the words ‘the help’, but there were other things he could be grumbling about and he appreciated being in this situation than two days before. Clara introduced the two, John forcing a smile for his own good. Miss Oswald handed him a tray filled with cookies samples and guided him to the dining area of the bakery, instructing him to stand near the register holding the tray and smile happily. 

‘People will know they are free samples,’ she reassured, as he looked a tad unnerved by her request.

‘You’ll be fine.’

He popped on his sunglasses and scowled.

‘Oh come on! A smile won’t kill you, John!’ she pleaded, tugging at his name tag.

‘This is ridiculous…’ he growled.

She folded her arms and glowered at him.

‘Don’t forget who’s trying to help you and pulled you out of your rut,’ she snapped.

He huffed, ‘Oh, so you are using my misfortune to your advantage now, are you? I never asked for your fucking help. I’ll give you back the money you paid to that asshole at the home; but I am not standing in a fucking pink apron, offering cookie samples!’

The musician tore off the pink fabric and tossed it across the room, a few onlookers watching as he barged out the door, aimlessly. Francine quickly came to Clara’s side and looked at her worriedly.

‘What was that about?’

Clara shook her head and looked at her co-worker,’ Hold the fort while I’m gone. I’ll be back!’

Francine nodded and watched as the brunette ran out the door, after the lanky man.

‘John! Wait!’ she called after him, as he slowly made his way down the street, hands groping the nearby walls for a sense of direction.

He ignored her as he continued on his way, until he bumped into a small frame in front of him.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, panting heavily.

‘I shouldn’t have stooped so low and use that against you.’

John pushed past her and resumed walking. Clara grabbed his arm and yanked him towards her.

‘I’m apologizing to you!’

‘I heard. Now excuse me. I have to go find somewhere to rest my head for the night.’

Clara looked at him sadly. She really screwed up and felt guilty about it.

‘Please don’t go, John…’

He ignored her and kept walking; his tall figure with the mass of silver curls fading in the distance, the further he strolled. The brunette pursed her lips and felt helpless. What should she do now? The blaring of a car horn caught her attention, followed by a mass of swearing and people shouting. John was headed in that direction and her heart sank, as her eyes darted about the sidewalk for any sign of him.

She felt a pang of dread coil in her belly as she dashed down the street towards the gathered crowd. Hastily, the lovely lady pushed past the group of people surrounding the edge of the roadway and felt her eyes burn at the scene she was met with. John lay unmoving on the roadway, a deep gash across his head, bleeding heavily. Immediately, she rushed to his side and shook him hard.

‘John! John!’ she called, her voice filled with panic.

He did not budge. She grabbed her phone from her pocket and dialled an ambulance, before taking her hair ribbon and pressing it to the wound to suppress the bleeding.

\--------------------  
John opened his eyes, only blackness greeting him along with a throbbing pain in his head.

‘Hey…’ came a soft voice.

He felt a small hand grip his own, as he slowly regained his senses. The smell of antiseptic and sterile chemicals wafted the air and he grimaced as he instantly recognized where he was. 

‘River?’ he asked, gripping the hand that held onto his.

‘N-no… it’s Clara…’

He felt something inside him break and he tried hard to fight back the tears. Of course, he was still alive and his wife was dead. A tear trickled down his cheek, and he felt his body shudder as he began to sob. The hand that held onto him released its hold and he felt the mattress sink beside him.

‘It’s going to be alright,’ said Clara, softy stroking his hair.

He slapped away her hand.

‘No, its not! I’m still fucking alive! I should be dead!’ he screamed at her.

‘Instead, I’m blind and suffering in this world when I should be dead!’

‘Don’t say that!’ Clara reasoned, ‘You’re alive for a reason and should count your lucky stars!’

‘For what?! I can’t do shit, because I can’t see anymore! Nobody would hire a blind old fart, like me!’

‘I did! I saw past that!’

‘You only did it to serve yourself!’ he hissed, angrily.

‘I said I was sorry, John. Please, you have to believe me. I didn’t mean to offend you and I wasn’t thinking.’

He scoffed and folded his arms.

‘Why? Why are you helping me, Clara? Nobody helps a stranger out of the blue like you did.’

Clara straightened her back and bit her lower lip. Time she came clean with him if she wanted him to stick around in the future.

‘Because I’m lonely!’

‘And you think I’m the solution, to that?’ he asked in disbelief.

‘My boyfriend… he’s never around and I feel alone all the time. When I heard you playing, I almost felt that you were experiencing the same thing, which you channelled through your music,’ she explained.

‘I really enjoyed hearing you play, and overlooked your banter because I could tell you were hurting… and that maybe my generosity would make you eventually be kinder to me… because I saw myself, when I looked at you and…’

‘And?’ he asked, awaiting the rest of her reason.

‘And my mother was in a comparable situation to you… she died a few years ago… from a car accident. She had severe head trauma and was experiencing brain haemorrhage. The doctors managed to stop it, but the damage from the crash was so bad, it took her sight.’

She took a deep breath, ‘She needed further surgery to deal with other injuries she sustained and my father didn’t want to pay for it, because it was too expensive and he did not want to dip into their savings…’

She quickly wiped at the tears that brimmed her eyes. 

‘I know you are suffering after whatever happened to you, and being blind seems like a death sentence… but you need to fight it and stop having self pity!’

She took his trembling hand and gave it a light squeeze.

‘I see a very sad person behind the anger and the snarky comments and moaning and groaning. I also see someone who is very gentle and sweet if they give themselves a chance and let someone help them…’

‘And you think, you’re that person?’ he spat.

She gave a low, sad laugh.

‘Not at all. I just wanted to be kind to someone and try to put a smile on their face when their whole world seems dark. It’s what my mother would have done.’

He felt a bit bad for the young woman and also that he may have overreacted earlier. She really wasn’t bad to him.

‘Your mother sounds like an impeccable woman…’

‘She was… and I try to live by her virtues everyday. Anyway, I’m glad you’re alright. I’ll look around and see if there’s somewhere you can stay… apart from the homeless shelter and the home you were at.’

He furrowed his brows, ‘I’m not staying at your place anymore…?’

A hint of a smile played on her lips.

‘If you want to… my doors are open but no swearing…’

He gave a slight grin and said, ‘Thank you, Clara… for everything. I’m sorry for how I treated you from the very beginning to now. I’ll try to be more understanding and thank you for putting up with me.’

She chuckled and threw her arms around him. He groaned and stiffened under her touch.

‘No hugs… I’m not a hugger….’

‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ she said, smiling brightly.

‘You sound happy,’ he commented.

‘I am. You have no idea how much, I really am.’


	11. Another shot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John and Clara's relationship might be getting a bit better?

Chapter 11

Clara applied the ointment to the healing gash on John’s forehead, as he winced in pain.

‘Can you be any more rough?!’ he growled at her.

‘Shush. It’s for your own good,’ she snapped and placed a plaster over the wound.

It had been two weeks since his hospital visit and Clara was doing good, by taking care of him. They came to an agreement; that he would stay at her place and work at the bakery, with half his salary deducted to pay his owings to the home.

‘Alright, time for work!’ she said a little too happily for his taste.

She glanced at him and was met with a scowl.

‘You know, sulking gives you wrinkles,’ she teased, ‘And I’m sure the medicine didn’t hurt as bad as you make it to be.’

‘It still hurt…’ he claimed and rose from the couch.

Clara handed him his walking stick, which he gratefully took.

‘Good morning, you two!’ greeted Francine with a big smile, as they walked through the establishment’s doors.

After John’s outburst and everything that proceeded afterwards, Clara had filled her in on the details as to what happened, even informing that she was leasing her spare apartment bedroom to him for free; along with how they came to the arrangement. Francine was the closest person Clara had to a friend, and sometimes she even considered her a sister. They both knew each other since she first hired the woman years ago and were on good terms from the very start.

‘Ugh, the cheerfulness in this place is annoying,’ commented John with a grimace.

Clara nudged him in the ribs, earning the third scowl from him for the morning.

‘You keep your face like that, and you’re bound to drive away my customers, Mr. Smith,’ she scolded and tied an apron around him.

‘Please tell me it’s not pink…’ he groaned, tugging at the material.

‘Nope. It’s blue… with white polka dots,’ she chuckled.

He gave an exaggerated sigh and held the tray of cookie samples, Francine carefully placed into his palms.

‘Now remember to smile… be charming,’ crooned the brunette with a wicked grin. Her co-worker giggled uncontrollably as she guided him to the register. 

‘Relax,’ she soothed, ‘I’m right behind you if you need help. Just call me or Clara, okay?’

John found it hard not to look like a fool, standing like an inanimate object, holding a platter of flour and sugar, rolled into a savoury baked dough.

‘Oooo, are these for free, sir?’ asked an old, shrill female voice.

‘What do yo- … I mean, yes ma’am. Free tasters,’ he quickly corrected himself.

The old woman smiled at John, and took a piece from the plate.

‘It’s quite yummy. I’ll have a dozen of these, dearie,’ the customer said to Francine, who immediately busied herself with the order.

‘As for you my dear, do you come with the treats?’ she asked John, flirtatiously.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, a sense of unease building in the air.

‘Uhm, no. I do not…’

The old sack of skin chuckled and patted his behind. His back went ramrod straight and he instantly turned in her direction, fully pissed.

‘Madam, I would appreciate if you would not touch me, or I will have to call my manager and the police and report you for sexual harassment.’

‘Oh, don’t be such a spoilt sport,’ she chimed, innocently and repeated the action.

Clara noted what was happening from across the room and immediately came to John’s aid. 

‘Did you get your purchase, ma’am?’ she asked sweetly, looping her arm around John’s slender waist, protectively.

‘I did, thank you. Your cookies are wonderful. I do say though, where did you find such a handsome specimen?’ she asked curiously, pointing to John.

She ignored the question and handed the old crone her goods. 

‘Will there be anything else?’

‘No, no, not at all, but I don’t mind if maybe someone can help me…cross the street?’ she asked, looking at the silver fox, hopefully.

‘Of course. Lead the way,’ instructed Clara.

The old woman’s face fell, her hopes of having John help, completely shattered. Did she not notice he was blind?

‘I’ll be back in a bit!’ she called after him and her co-worker, before exiting the store.

‘You alright?’ asked Francine, a bit concerned.

‘A bit violated and judging from the voice…by an old hag too…’

‘True, but it could’ve been worse. Clara saved you there,’ she noted.

He nodded thoughtfully and rest the tray down, to rub his lower back.

‘She’s… strange,’ he said, slowly.

‘I’ve never met someone like her… doesn’t she know it’s dangerous to just randomly help strangers?’

‘That’s our, Clara Sweet, a tad naïve but with a heart of gold.’

‘Have you known her long?’

‘Seven years. That’s how long we had the bakery running. I was the first staff she hired’, she explained.

‘She was so young in the business and her mother had just died. It was her mother’s dream to own her own bakery, and voila! Here it is.’

‘She had mentioned her mother… that she died…’

‘Yeah... She told me, she told you her story.’

‘Yeah… she did… What happened to her father?’

‘She doesn’t talk about him much. She just says that after what he did, she never wants to see him again. I heard he’s mean and loves money to the point he doesn’t care what happens to people or what situation they get themselves into, once they pay what they owe.’

Strangely, his mind drifted to manager at the home and he quickly dismissed the thought. 

‘What about you? You’re a good looking, bloke. What happened to you?’

‘Car crash. Banged my head a bit too hard and made me blind, in layman’s terms.’

‘Ouch. Sorry to hear that. You had a job before? Married?’

‘Yeah… I was married. Used to be part of a band, too’ he replied, softly.

‘I had a wonderful life before… with people I thought were my friends and family…’

‘What happened?’

John clenched his fist and gritted his teeth, at the memories that still haunted him till this day.

‘They fucking abandoned me, that’s what!’ he hissed.

‘Nobody gives a shit about me. They only knew me when I had money and could do favours, nothing more. Now I’m nothing and they erased my entire existence from their life!’

‘I’m sorry…’

‘What is it with you people and sympathy?’

‘Everything okay?’ came Clara’s soft voice, before Francine could reply.

‘Are you, alright John?’ she asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Something about the gentleness of her touch made his anger and frustration subside and he found himself quickly, calming down. Strange, he thought. Anger was something he held on to. It fuelled his very miserable existence, yet here for the first time in five years, he felt it retreating; by a simple, innocent gesture. This went unnoticed by Francine, who eyed the two, very carefully.

‘I’m fine… thank you.’

‘Did you just thank me, Mr. Smith?’ teased the brunette.

‘Don’t push it,’ he grumbled, earning a hearty laugh from her.

Francine looked at her boss and her new co-worker and smiled. 

‘What’s the smile?’ asked the little lady.

‘Oh nothing,’ she said, darting her eyes between her and John.

‘Nothing at all.’


	12. Confrontation

Chapter 12

‘I can’t wait for this darn baby to come out!’ grumbled Francine, as she bit into a hot slice of bread, coated with melted butter.

‘I wouldn’t know,’ responded John, carefully taking a seat beside her.

‘You got kids?’ his co-worker asked, grabbing another mouthful.

‘No. My wife and I… we never talked about having any…’

‘You said she died in a car crash. How’d it happened?’ she prodded.

‘I don’t wanna talk about it,’ he blurted coldly, making the pregnant woman back off the topic, immediately.

‘Goodness, is it lunch time already?’ asked Clara, walking into the tiny lunchroom at the back of the bakery.

‘Mhhm,’ John and Francine both responded, in unison.

‘You have any lunch, John?’ she asked, slowly.

He shook his head and leant back in his chair.

‘I’m not hungry anyway.’

‘Nobody goes hungry under my roof, Mr. Smith,’ she said sternly and took his hand, placing a ham sandwich in his large palm.

‘Eat up. You need to keep your strength up and need that wound to heal.’

John obeyed without question and took a small bite out of the meal. Clara had freshly baked the bread an hour ago and he had to admit, she was a great cook. Back at the apartment, she made them dinner and breakfast as well and everytime he ate, he licked his fingers and plate, clean.

Francine chuckled at the old man’s face of pure bliss, as he savoured the food.

‘She’s a great cook, isn’t she?’ 

‘It’s okay,’ he replied.

Clara pouted and folded her arms, ‘Well, for my okay cooking, you certainly always clean your plate.’

‘I’m always hungry, that’s why.’

She rolled her eyes at him.

‘It takes a lot to get a compliment out of you, doesn’t it?’ she groaned, tugging his ear.

He smirked and continued eating, pretending to ignore her.

‘Anyway, I have an errand to run. Francine, can you cover the register for me? John, you can do the dishes!’

‘Oh come on! It’s Francine’s turn!’ he complained.

‘That’s what you get, when you tell the chef, her food is average!’ Clara replied in a sing-song voice and dashed out the room.

Clara carefully knocked on the large wooden door, and only entered when the voice behind gave permission. Her father’s eyes instantly lit up, as his beautiful daughter walked through, but was short lived when she produced a small envelope.

‘The rest of the payment, as I had promised,’ she said coldly.

He held his hand up, refusing to accept the cheque she offered.

‘Clara… I don’t want your money.’

‘No, you want John Smith’s money.’

Mr. Oswald rose from his seat and walked towards the window.

‘This man Clara, he’s not healthy to be around …’

‘I’ll be the judge of that. So far, he’s been nothing but normal.’

He rested his head against the back of his palm and sighed.

‘Clara, please…’

She ignored him and tossed the paper on his desk.

‘His debt is cleared. Do make note of it and ensure there is no unnecessary drama to follow.’

He looked up, the only thing his eyes meeting, was the now empty space she stood at seconds before. He really wanted to make amends with his only child and a few minutes later, he grabbed his coat and ran after her.'

Clara had only walked through her establishment’s doors moments before she felt someone grab at her wrist. She spun around to see her father, panting heavily.

‘Did you follow me?!’ she half shouted, completely enraged.

‘I don’t want you to regret what you are doing. I also, want us to get past what happened…’

‘Let me go,’ she ordered, wringing herself free from his hold.

‘Clara… let’s talk! Please!’ he called after her, as she walked away.

‘We have nothing to talk about. Now, please leave. You are making a scene and people are beginning to stare.’

‘No. You are my daughter and you will listen to what I have to say…’ he threatened, squeezing her arm, till she felt it was surely bruised.

‘Is there a problem here?’ asked John, coming to Clara’s aid. Francine stood behind him as back up.

‘You…’ David Oswald said through gritted teeth.

‘Keep away from my daughter…’

John’s face was a mask of calm. There was no doubt he instantly recognized that voice.

‘Excuse me?’

‘You heard me. I don’t want to see you around here or around Clara…’

‘Well, I guess the fact that we live together, is out of the question too?’ he provoked, with a sly grin on his face.

David stood still, the rage and fury he felt was too much to bear and he threw an unsuspecting punch at the silver fox, bursting his lip on impact.

‘John!’ Clara screamed.

People in the store gasped and stared at the scene. He wasn’t finished yet and proceeded to throw another, but Clara stood in the way and collected the impact on her left cheek. 

She instantly fell to the floor, completely stunned.

‘Oh my God! Clara! Are you alright?!’ called Francine, helping her to her feet.

‘Clara… I’m so sorry…’ her dad began, taking one of her arm.

‘Sir, you need to leave,’ ordered Francine, firmly batting his hand away.

‘Do as she says or we will call the police,’ growled John, helping her up.

‘I…’

‘Go!’ he shouted, clutching Clara to his chest.

‘Yes… leave… and don’t come back,’ his daughter added and winced when Francine touched the area she had just been hit.

He looked around and say everyone staring at him.

‘The show is over everyone!’ he yelled at them and left, swearing under his breath.

John Smith was not going to be let off the hook so easily. He already crossed the line by not paying his debt, but staying under the same roof with his daughter, doing God knows what, he was not going to stand for. He would find a way to make amends with Clara, but first, he had to show her John Smith was not a good person to be around. He had to get her away from him, no matter what.


	13. An unexpected visit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my wonderful readers! I apologize for posting this chapter so late tonight, but here it is nonetheless. I had the cold all week and I don't seem to be recovering. I'm also having a hard time with the weather and the cold.
> 
> Hope you are enjoying the story so far.

Chapter 13

Clara held the bag of ice to her cheek, and winced.

‘How bad was the hit?’ asked John, also holding an ice pack to his busted lip.

‘Not too bad…’ she lied.

‘My ass!’ John scoffed, obviously not believing her.

‘I heard when he landed that punch and trust me; from my experience at throwing my fist at people, the sound of the one you collected was no soft hit.’

Clara bowed her head, ‘I’ll be okay…’

Her phone began buzzing, the endless series of calls she was avoiding from her father after the incident. He tried endlessly all afternoon to contact her. How he got her phone number, she had no clue and was determined to have it changed at her mobile outlet, later.

‘Other than what happened in the store… are you all right?’ asked John, sincerely.

Clara glanced at him, his face written with genuine concern. She almost felt her heart melt at the way he looked at her. Despite his eyes were unfocused, his facial expression bore so many hints of care and utmost desire to ensure she was safe and sound. It was sweet beyond words.

‘I’m fine, John. Please, don’t worry about me,’ she said with a soft chuckle.

‘Just checking. He sounded pretty rough with you. Is he a regular customer?’

‘No…’ she said thoughtfully and decided to come clean, before he eventually found out from someone else.

‘He’s my dad.’

John’s posture straightened and he raised his brows.

‘What?!’

‘Yeah… he’s my father. My one and only cold, heartless surviving parent.’

He scoffed at her words and set the bag of cold down.

‘Is he the reason why you decided to pay my debt? Because of your personal ties to him?’ the greying man, asked bitterly.

‘No. I did it because I felt it was the right thing and I only found out he was the manager the same day I sought to make your payments.’

He nodded and lay back in his chair.

‘Did he threaten you or say anything to you about me….?’

‘Only to stay away from you and you’re dangerous company… Then again, it’s the same story with anyone I try to be kind to. He hates seeing me help random people.’

‘I can’t blame him. I could be a murderer for all you know,’ he half joked, although; it was not entirely false.

‘I highly doubt that. Besides, I trust you,’ Clara announced without hesitation, earning herself a half grin from her blind guest.

A knock on the front door, made the pair jump and broke the mild growing tension that was beginning to build with their conversation. The short woman tip toed and peered through the peep hole, her eyes widening at the person standing before the entrance to her home. She suddenly felt nervous and wracked her brain for an excuse, before slowly opening the door.

‘Danny!’ she said, with a large smile, that did not meet her eyes.

It was strange. She had begged Danny for the past two months to come home and she longed to see him and now, here he finally was and she was not as excited as she thought she’d initially be. Why was that?

‘Clara, darling!’ he greeted and swooped down to plant a kiss on her left cheek.

‘W-What are you doing here?’ she asked with a nervous giggle.

‘I thought about what you said and… decided it was time to come home for a bit. Of course, I had to see you first,’ he beamed.

Clara was at a loss for words and clung to the door, giving him a sheepish grin.

‘So, are you going to let me in?’ he asked, peering through the sliver of background he saw, through the door.

‘Um…actually…. now is not a good time… You see, my…. Grandma is here and she’s in the shower. She is visiting for the week because she misses me so much. She’s not much of a social person I’m afraid…’

‘Oh! It’s… not a problem!’ he said, followed by a short laugh before noticing the discoloured, swollen patch on her face..

‘What happened to your face? Did someone hit you?’ Danny asked worriedly.

‘I had an issue with a customer and had to part a fight. Ended up getting punched by accident…’

‘Did you see a doctor? Anything I can do?’

‘No, it’s all good. Grans is taking care of me… which by the way, I think I heard her call me…’

‘If you say so… I completely understand. I hope to meet her one of these days. Tell her I said hi, for me?’

‘Of course,’ she said a little too enthusiastically.

‘Oh, and before I forget… since we haven’t been together for quite some time, how about dinner… say tomorrow night? 8pm?’

The brunette smiled at him, ‘That sounds great! I’ll see you then.’

‘Great! I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty.’

She nodded and grinned broadly, before he bent down and lay a soft kiss to her lips.

‘It’s so good to see you after so long. I’m looking forward to tomorrow night,’ he whispered into her ear.

‘It’s good to see you too, Danny.’

Clara shut the door and felt so guilty for lying to Danny about her grandma being in the apartment to cover the fact that she was housing a homeless man, instead. Then again, there was no way of telling how Danny would have taken the situation, had she told him the truth. It would not look right in anyone’s eyes if a male, even one of John’s age and looks was staying under the same roof with Clara. That aside, she was still in mild shock of seeing her boyfriend after so long and only now had it sunk in, that they had a date tomorrow. A high-pitched squeal escaped her lips, as excitement overtook her senses.

‘What the heck happened to you?’ came John’s sarcastic voice.

‘My boyfriend’s back and I have a date tomorrow!’ she answered dreamily.

‘A date? The man only has one idea on his mind, child. A date is just his cover up of saying he wants to fuck you senseless because his cock hasn’t been kept warm in months,’ he spat.

‘You are absolutely disgusting and no, he’s not like that!’ she defended.

‘Whatever you say. I may be old, but I’m also a man nonetheless. We all think the same way.’

‘Really?’ she snarked at him.

‘Yeah. We think with our cocks first and brains later.’

Clara scoffed and rolled her eyes.

‘MY Danny is not like that, John. Maybe you are… or should I say, ‘were’’.

He gritted his teeth at her comeback.

‘For your information, I’m a great lover. Many women have told me so.’

‘Women, huh? You sound more like a man-whore than a lover to me,’ she snapped with a wicked grin.

John was dumbfounded.

‘Cat got your tongue?’ the little lady taunted and burst out laughing.

‘Well, I need to go shopping for a dress and I need a male opinion, so you’re coming with me.’

John released a pained groan.

‘I’m blind. Can’t help you there.’

‘Yes, you can and besides, you’re not lame. You can hold the bags.’

‘How the hell did I get suckered into this deal?’ he complained.

Clara didn’t reply. Instead, she dabbed on some foundation to cover her facial bruise, grabbed her purse and tall stick insect of a man, locked the door behind her and called a cab to drop them off at the nearest shopping mall.


	14. Preparation

Chapter 14

‘Must we really do this? Change that… must I really be here?’ grumbled John, as Clara held onto his wrist and dragged him through a number of ladies department stores.

‘Can’t you pick an outfit already?!’

‘No. I can’t just pick an outfit… it has to be the outfit. It needs to be just right!’ she bellowed and browsed the current aisle they stood in.

John blew the air through his teeth and leant against what felt like a large beam, bracing his tall, lean figure against the cold concrete. 

‘Clara?’ called a female voice. 

John groaned and knew in a heartbeat, it was none other than his quirky co-worker, Francine.

‘I thought I heard John’s griping,’ she taunted. 

The greying man rolled his eyes and folded his arms, a noticeable pout on his face.

‘So, what’s happened for you to drag John out of the apartment?’ she questioned, giving them both a cheeky grin.

‘You got a date?’ 

‘Yep. Danny passed by this afternoon.’

Francine half expected her to say otherwise but she downplayed her surprise and gave a wry smile.

‘I see and why is poor John here, then?’

‘Yeah, good question Francine!’

‘I needed a male opinion on what to wear. It’s been two months and I don’t want to look like a plonker in front of Danny.’

‘Darling, you can look like a hobo and he still wouldn’t notice!’

‘It doesn’t matter. I want to look nice for him.’

‘And… having a blind dinosaur here is going to help?’

‘Yes, exactly… wait, what?! Blind dinosaur?!’ complained the older male.

The women giggled like little schoolgirls and Francine took the crook of John’s arm and dragged him along with her friend.

‘If you’re seeing your boyfriend after two months and want to look good… then the teenage section is not going to be an option. You are not wearing jeans!’ she scolded.  
John grimaced as he was once again pulled into the world of structured jackets and mini skirts.

‘This one?’ asked Clara, holding up a pink shirt.

‘Too tacky…’ Francine groaned.

John rolled his thumbs over his temples and closed his eyes.

‘Enough already!’ he grunted and sighed loudly.

‘Where are the black dresses?’ he asked, completely out of patience.

The women grew silent and looked at him, then at each other.

‘O-Over here…’ said Clara, a bit taken aback.

‘Choose a spaghetti strap one,’ he instructed.

Clara and Francine sifted through the racks and sure enough struck gold with a few selections.

‘We found some…’ she said slowly.

‘How many are there?’

‘Six…’

‘Describe them to me,’ he demanded.

Clara did as was told and the old man nodded, internally visualizing each item of clothing, until he stopped her after construing the fifth piece of fabric.

‘That one. Wear that one.’

She furrowed her brows and looked at the dress. A simple spaghetti strap with a cross back, that rested an inch above the knee.

‘It’s a bit long, don’t you think?’ asked Francine, a bit unsure.

‘You don’t want a dress that’s too short. You want her to look sexy, not trampy. Not to mention, it’ll leave room for imagination.’

Clara smiled brightly.

‘I knew it was a good idea to bring you along.’

‘More like, drag me against my will, but you’re welcome,’ he spat.

‘Now try on the bloody dress.’

Clara smirked and did as was told. She emerged from the changing room, contented.

‘You’re not going to show me how it looked?’ bickered her friend, hands akimbo.

‘You’ll see it when I do the full works,’ she said smugly.

‘Now let’s get out of here, before John turns into Gandalf the grey.’

\-------

The day passed quickly and Clara was absolutely nervous by the time the evening rolled around. She paced her living room floor nervously, decked in her bathrobe with Francine trying hard to calm her down.

‘You’ll be fine!’ the soon-to-be-mother soothed.

‘I’m so nervous! I forgot what it would be like to go on a date and be a man’s centre of attention’, she confessed, tugging at her wet hair.

‘You ladies finished yet? I really would love to take a shower and hit the deck!’ shouted John from the kitchen.

‘Don’t rush a woman when she’s about to go on a date!’ Francine responded, with a harsh tone.

John scoffed and downed his glass of milk.

It took the brunette two hours to get ready, with the aid of her friend who not only helped her dress; but boost her confidence at the same time for the events of the evening to come.

The squeaking of the bedroom door, got John’s attention as a happy Francine walked through the door.

‘She’s ready,’ she said in a sing-song voice.

John yawned and put on the most bored expression he could muster. Clara slowly emerged through the door and the waft of her signature jasmine perfume hit him hard. He straightened his back and could tell she was close to him by how intense the scent grew.

‘Look good?’ he asked, slowly.

‘She looks beautiful,’ her pal pitched in.

‘I wouldn’t know,’ he mumbled, but felt half bad that he couldn’t see. 

He momentarily let his mind wander as to how she looked and what she must’ve looked like. There were so many possibilities. A loud pounding on the front door, shook him back to reality and he turned towards the sound.

‘That would be, Danny…’ she said, slowly.

‘Have a good time,’ he said half-heartedly.

‘I will,’ she said softly and bent forward, planting a soft kiss to his cheek.

‘Thank you for all your help.’

He parted his lips, meaning to tell her something snarky but the words died in his throat. The area her lips touched, felt tingly all of a sudden and he didn’t understand why.

‘Don’t wait up, you two!’ she chimed.

‘Hey! Be careful! Don’t forget the birds and the bees. Always protect the honey and don-‘

Clara and Francine burst out laughing, cutting him short.

‘Thanks dad. I’ll be fine,’ she teased and opened the front door to a smiling Danny, decked in a nice plum shirt and black trousers and jacket.

When the door closed behind them, Francine studied the old man’s face. He looked distant, his fingers tracing where Clara had previously kissed.

‘You alright?’

‘Yeah. I’m fine… just fine.’

Francine looked at him suspiciously but said nothing. She took a seat beside him and turned on the telly, all the while taking a side glance at her co-worker from time to time. He looked fine but if her mind told her right, there was something on his mind; and she was more than sure it was Clara.


	15. A little chat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I'm so sorry for not posting last week! I was at a Doctor Who Day get together and had a blast.... maybe too much hehe!

Chapter 15

‘You look beautiful,’ complimented Danny, as the couple awaited their meal. 

Danny had reserved a table for two in a posh restaurant just outside of town and ensured they had a cozy corner to themselves, away from the bustling crowd in the middle reaches of the dining area.

‘Thank you,’ Clara replied with a blush and fidgeted with the table napkin, as she found herself growing increasingly nervous.

‘Everything alright, love?’

She kept her eyes downcast, and nodded slowly. Suddenly she heard the chair scrape against the hard, wooden floor and jumped when she felt her boyfriend’s warm hand rest on the back of her shoulder.

‘You don’t look alright… what’s wrong, Clara?’ he asked, gently.

He bent to meet her at eye level and stared into her large brown eyes. His face was plastered with concern and her brain was a scramble of thoughts and endless emotions. Should she tell him how she felt? A day ago, she was completely excited to see him and would have killed for this moment months and months ago. Now, she found herself in a quandary, questioning whether she wanted to spend the evening out with Danny.

Then, her mind ran to John. Her foul-mouthed, blind roommate with the lovely head of grey curls. How she wondered how they felt if she raked her fingers through the coiled strands. They must be so soft, maybe like a cat’s fur? His hands her soft, despite aged and now for some strange reason she wondered if the rest of him felt the same way. He was absolutely handsome, and she’d be lying to herself if she said she was not at least a tad attracted to him. His music reeled her in but the past month, having the pleasure of his company withdrew her from the silent solitude she was falling into. 

‘Clara?’ came Danny’s deep voice, pulling her from her thoughts.

‘Sorry…’ she quickly apologized and put on the biggest smile she could muster.

He frowned and re-seated himself.

‘Things have been hard without you… I’ve missed you so much,’ she began.

‘Three months… then two months… then three months again… you’re practically never here.’

The dark-skinned man bowed his head, as if ashamed.

‘I know. It’s not right or fair to you, but my job takes a lot from me. You know this, Clara.’

‘Yes, but you have the option to turn it down… yet you still agree to do the extra work, when you could be home with me. That’s our time they take away. What you take away, Danny,’ she said with a trembling voice.

‘Yes, but I do it for the extra money… so we can plan for that dream vacation you always wanted, to the Caribbean,’ he defended.

The brunette shook her head, ‘No. You do it for you. You said we’d go on that vacation a year ago. You’re never here and we’ve been together for three years. Of all that time, I’ve only seen you eighteen months at most!’

‘Well, I’m a very busy man, Clara. You know what you were getting into, when we got together!’

‘You weren’t always like this, Danny. Ever since that promotion, you’ve changed. I don’t know who you are anymore… The Danny I knew and loved is gone.’

‘I’m still here,’ he said, reaching for her hand from across the table.

‘In body yes, but not in spirit,’ she half whispered and rose from her chair.

‘Where are you going?’

‘Home.’

‘Clara… please, don’t go. I’m sorry for all the hurt I’ve put you through, but please. I really don’t want to start our first time together in ages like this…’

The bakery owner contemplated his words for a bit and then sunk back behind the table. Danny gave her a grateful smile and she returned a small one, although her heart was longer in the same place it should be, or was it?

\----------

John sprawled on the couch and released an audible yawn, as Francine chuckled endlessly at the program that was currently airing on the telly. 

‘What time is it?’ asked the old fellow, cracking his knuckles.

‘Eleven thirty. It’s late. I should get going,’ she announced, switching off the big black box and grabbing her coat.

‘You gonna be alright? Need help getting down the stairs?’ 

‘I’ll be fine. It’s Clara I’m worried about,’ she said, with a hint of concern in her voice.

‘She’s with her boyfriend. She’ll be fine.’

Francine shook her head and sat on the arm of the couch, near John’s head.

‘Clara and Danny have been out of love for a little over a year now.’

John raised his eyebrows at the statement and blinked.

‘Danny got a promotion a year and a half ago and while he was charming and sweet, the change in position and power made him different…’ she explained.

‘He began spending less time with her and although she thought it was because his bosses demanded more time from him, turned out he wanted to take on extra tasks to earn extra cash. Apparently overtime in his position can add up to a month’s salary from his older post.’

‘So, what happened?’ asked John, curiously.

‘It started with him working extra hours once a week, then it graduated to twice a week, till he began cancelling dates and standing Clara up on more than one occasion. Then he started travelling nonstop and he barely sees her at all. The worse part about it is that he never even calls to say when he’s coming back!’

‘Sounds like a jerk,’ John scoffed.

‘He is! I’m very suspicious that he may be having an affair outside of his relationship with her. However, it’s just a speculation. I could be wrong… but I won’t be surprised. Clara had mentioned the same notion to me once and said she would not be surprised, either.’

‘So why doesn’t she dump him? If the lad ain’t interested, why keep him around or hold onto the arsehole?’

‘Because she’s lonely, John. He’s the first boyfriend she ever had and is afraid of losing the last person close to her.’

‘Doesn’t she, have you?’

‘I’m her friend yes, but she needs someone on a more intimate level… someone to love her. But I fear that’ll come to an end soon.’

‘So, you’re afraid of what will happen to her, if they were to break up?’

‘Yes, but I think if they do split, she’ll be in good hands…’

‘How so?’

His co-worker rubbed her enormous belly and smirked at him.

‘She’s got you… but you need to stop being a hard arse and be nicer to her,’ she scolded and yanked at a fistful of his greying hair.

He sat up and rubbed at the sore spot she created, swearing like a mad man before she shut the door behind her. A few minutes later, he heard the door again and stood up.

‘Came back for me to finish insult you?!’ he shouted and walked towards the apartment’s entrance.

He heard a loud sniffle and hurried footsteps and it didn’t take rocket science for him to realize it was Clara. That intoxicating jasmine perfume she wore, wafted his nose and he nearly lost his footing as she wrapped his arms around him and buried her face in his chest, sobbing uncontrollably. He froze at the sudden contact but relaxed eventually and carefully placed his arms around her tiny frame.

‘Are you alright…?’ he asked, uncertainly.

‘You were right…’ she cried, ‘You were so right.’

He pursed his lips and rest his head atop hers and rocked her slowly, stroking her hair while she continued to shed tears. After what Francine had explained to him and the notion he got from how Danny operated, he knew from then on; he really disliked Mr. Pink.


	16. Jerk boyfriend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some fluff between these two idiots!

Chapter 16

John held onto Clara, stroking her back as her crying began to subside. He lost track of time, and had not the slightest clue as to how long he held her in his arms. He had never heard her sound so upset and there was only one obvious reason as to the cause of the matter… Danny Pink. Clara slowly released her grip on the slender fellow and wiped her eyes.

‘I’m sorry…’ she croaked.

‘It’s fine,’ he answered, trying not to sound bothered by her current state.

‘You were right, from the beginning,’ she stated with a bitter chuckle.

He cocked an eyebrow at her statement and folded his arms, feeling the front of his shirt completely soaked with her tears. Her eyes went wide, when she noticed the dark, wet spot and quickly offered to wash it, later.

‘So why was I right, all along?’ John asked curiously, despite already knowing half the answer.

‘Danny just wanted closure and a one-night stand before he jets off tomorrow night to Spain! I should’ve known it was too good to be true,’ she spat.

John felt a stab of pride and at the same time, he felt a swivel of anger begin to boil in his chest. Did he touch her? Try to force her? Was she hurt?

‘Are you alright? Did he hurt you?’ he asked, bluntly.

Clara straightened her back and stared at him, surprised.

‘N-No, he didn’t. We had dinner and I got upset, but he convinced me to stay and then on the way home, he said he wanted to stop by his hotel to pick up a few things.’  
John nodded, listening intently.

‘So, I went up to his room, we had a few drinks and then he apologized for everything and said he wanted to make it up to me. Next thing you know, he kisses me which I didn’t mind but he began to get a bit aggressive when I kept batting his hand away, everytime he tried to unzip my dress…’

John grimaced and scratched his head.

‘I’m sorry... too much info?’

‘No… not at all, go on…’ he persuaded.

‘Well, after his third attempt, he got mad and asked me if I loved him…’

‘Did you answer?’ the former musician asked, almost a bit too quickly.

‘No… that’s the thing… I hesitated… and he got upset and then told me I’m not a loyal girlfriend and I should tend to her man’s needs. Then, he tried to kiss me again and pushed him away and told him it can’t work like that and I wasn’t in the mood and not to force me.’

John furrowed his eyebrows, that flame of rage, slowly building within him.

‘What happened, then?’

‘He said he he’s been faithful to me all this time and couldn’t wait to see me and wanted us to be together tonight, especially as he will be leaving town tomorrow!’

‘What a jackass,’ he remarked.

‘Tell me about it! I got so mad, I told him he was an idiot and he said he wasn’t sure if I was being loyal to him for the time he wasn’t there. I just slapped him and left…’

‘Atta girl!’ 

Clara gave a sad smile, but the memory of her attempt of mending her failing relationship with her selfish boyfriend made the tears come back. She plopped down next to John, and once again buried her face in his chest and cried her eyes out for the second time for the evening.

‘I hope you put this shirt on a heavy steam cycle, lass. The salt from those tears, are gonna make the fabric stiff and crinkle easy.’

His comment made his tiny saviour laugh and it stirred the strangest emotions within him. He felt almost giddy upon hearing her small, giggle and it made him smile. He closed his arm around her and placed a soft kiss atop her head.

‘’You’ll be fine. If he tries any of that shit again, you let me know, okay?’

Clara giggled again and looked at him with a grateful grin, ‘Thanks, dad.’

John scowled, ‘Please… don’t brand me with the daddy thing… it’s just wrong.’

‘But you are old enough to be my dad, you know,’ she tossed back at him.

‘Yeah, but I rather think of you as a friend, and not a father figure…’

Clara burst out laughing and wiggled herself out of his embrace.

‘I think this is the nicest, you have ever been to me since we met, John.’

‘I’m always nice to you. I don’t have a choice, or Francine would cut my balls off!’

Clara doubled over laughing. Her laugh was so infectious, John found himself joining in and he had to admit, it felt good. He couldn’t remember the last time he did that, and wholeheartedly without a care in the world.

‘I knew I was right,’ the little woman said, eventually.

‘About what?’

‘You.’

‘Me?’

‘Mhmm.’

‘How so?’

‘I knew deep down you weren’t a bad person. You are really sweet and I’m glad I’m getting to see the real you.’

Before John could respond, he felt Clara change her position on the couch and was surprised when he felt her lips press softly against his cheek. He felt his breath leave him and his heart began to race. The last time he felt anywhere near that, was when he met River.

‘You know, there’s something I wanted to ask you… but I guess I’m a bit embarrassed to do so…’ she said, breaking the moment.

‘W-What’s that?’

‘Can I ruffle your hair…? Pleaaasseeee?’ she begged, in an annoyingly adorable voice.

‘Um… sure…?’

She smiled broadly and slowly raked her fingers through his wild, grey curls. She was right; they were as soft as a cat’s fur and it smelled glorious of shampoo. The strands were perfectly healthy, and she admired the changing hues from brown to grey to white on some patches of his head. John closed his eyes and enjoyed her touch. She was so gentle, and it relaxed him, immensely. However, the innocent gesture began to make his body react and he quickly crossed his legs and silently prayed she did not notice the hint of his growing erection.

Thankfully, she stopped a few moments later and looked fully satisfied. John however, blew a sigh of relief. He slowly felt himself easing away and when he thought it was alright, smoothly uncrossed his legs, like nothing happened.

‘I love your hair!’ his roommate exclaimed.

He couldn’t help but smile and then a thought crossed his mind.

‘Clara,’ he began, clearing his throat.

‘Yes?’

‘What… do you look like?’

She frowned, and it only then occurred to her, that she never mentioned her appearance to him.

‘Oh, just a normal girl. Short and fat, going bald…’

John glowered at her and then held his hands to either side of her face.

‘May I?

Clara had no idea what he intended to do, but she agreed and waited.

He slowly placed his hands on either side of her face and felt every curve. The shape of her jaw, her nose… he traced his fingers over her lips, eyes and slowly slid them down her neck, causing her to gasp, as he felt her shoulders and arms and then gave her a questioning look as he let them drop to her waist. John lingered his fists there, before slowly pulling away.

‘Well?’ asked the beautiful brunette.

John looked in her direction and smiled softy before saying the words she never thought would hear come out of his mouth, ‘You’re beautiful.’


	17. Troubles ahead

Chapter 17

‘Let him go!’ screamed Clara, as she ran behind the two police officers who were dragging John towards their squad car.

‘I’m sorry miss, but this man is under arrest.’

‘Under what charge?!’ she half-screamed.

‘I’m not liable to extend that information to you, unless you are family.’

‘I’m his wife!’ she blurted without thinking, making John’s head snap towards her in sudden shock.

The police officer looked at her, almost in disbelief but then divulged, ‘Are you aware that your husband has not paid his fees to his healthcare providers for the past four months?’

‘I am and I have chartered off his debt directly to the manager.’

‘That’s not the information we received. We saw there was no record of payment from Mr. Smith, here.’

‘He? As in David Oswald?’

The officer did not reply, but she knew it was him and she was furious. The officer shoved him into the car and slammed the door to the backseat shut.

‘I’ll get you out, John!’ she yelled, as the car sped off.

He uttered not a word and sank hopelessly into his seat. Clara sighed heavily and balled her fists, her body trembling as she watched them drive away with her silver haired friend. 

David Oswald was not going to get away with this…  
\--------------

David Oswald jumped as his office door flung open, and an outraged Clara stormed through the door.

‘WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!’ she screamed at him.

He scoffed and rocked back in his chair.

‘I warned you. John Smith is not a good man to be around and he’s dangerous.’

‘I paid off his debt. There should be records showing this… unless you pocketed the money I gave you and did not put it in your ledger,’ she said, coldly.

He produced a small envelope from his drawer and handed it to her.

‘I’m not the monster you think I am, Clara. I didn’t spend your money. I have it right here and it’s yours.’

She took the envelope and chucked it into her purse.

‘Fine. I’ll use it to hire myself a good lawyer.’

Her father looked at her dumbfounded.

‘Clara wait I-‘

‘Save it! I don’t know what you have against John, but he is everything to me. He’s my friend and co-worker and nothing you do, will ever change the fact that I want him around me.’

‘You rather house a stranger than devote time with your old man?’ he growled.

‘I only have one old man in my life, and that’s John.’

‘I am your father and you are my child. Your role is to obey me!’

‘I have no father. You are dead to me.’

The home manager felt his jaw go slack at the harshness of his daughter’s words. She really hated him and what he thought was the best thing for her, only made any improvement of their relationship, worse. A lot worse.

‘He was drunk driving when he killed his wife and best friend… they had a lawsuit five years ago and his sister-in-law took everything from him,’ he explained.

Clara looked at him, unmoved but taken aback by his words.

‘It wasn’t intentional. I’m sure it was just an accident,’ she said.

‘Who knows. He was some band player who loved racy nights with his band members. He was quite a devil with other women too, I’ve heard.’

‘What’s in his past, is not important to me.’

He scoffed, ‘Then, you should put ours behind you then, Clara…’

She glared at him, ‘Never.’

‘What do you see in him, child? He’s not good company!’

‘Prove it! His past mistakes do not matter to me! People change over the years and I am sure he has! You however, have gotten worse!’ she screamed.

‘Don’t you ever interfere in my life again. Don’t you come near me and my business. Thanks to your little show, I’ve had customers questioning his credibility and even lost a few!’

‘Well, that’s your fault for housing a criminal.’

‘An accident that was not intentional does not make one a criminal. If anyone is a criminal, you are.’

‘I am not a-‘

‘Save it. Do not meddle in my affairs again or I will call the police and have them arrest you for harassment.’

‘You’d arrest your own father?’

Her silence was all he needed and watched as she stomped out his office. 

Miss Oswald returned to her establishment, meeting Francine halfway to the kitchen. She grabbed her friend and hugged her tight.

‘What are you going to do?’ she asked, frantically.

‘This isn’t good for business!’

‘I’m going to the station and see if they are offering bail to get John out. If not, I’ll hire a lawyer.’

‘I’m coming with you,’ her friend said determinedly.

‘No, stay here. Someone needs to run the shop. I’ll text you if anything happens.’

Her pregnant co-worker nodded and watched as she dove into a taxi and sped off down the street.

\------------  
John slunk against the cold wall, and pulled his jacket closer to his body, as the day wore on. He had no idea how long he had been sitting in the cell, except that he knew one day he was bound to find himself here. The endless shouting of various persons passing through the precinct and being locked away in adjacent cells or the same cell as him, began to make his head hurt. He shut his eyes and tried very hard to drown out the sound. 

‘John?’ called Clara’s angelic voice.

He looked up in the direction of the sound.

‘Hey…’ she said.

‘Clara?’ he asked, in disbelief.

‘It’s me.’

He got up and walked towards the iron bars. He held his hands out, aimlessly trying to find his way to her. She stretched her arm through and grabbed them. 

‘I’m so sorry Clara…’

‘Hush now. I’m going to get you out. I’m told you have a court hearing tomorrow and the judge may set a bail to get you out.’

‘No… you’ve already been through enough because of me. I won’t let you spend any more money! I should’ve never agreed to stay with you…’

‘Shut up! I’m going to get you out… You’re essential to me!’

John was at a loss for words. Clara really looked after him and saw him as her friend. What did he do in return? Whine and complain. He squeezed her hand, brought it to his lips and kissed it.

‘Thank you…’

Clara sniffled and smiled at him.

‘Are you crying…?’ he asked worriedly.

‘You bet I am you idiot!’

Before he could say anything, she grabbed the lapels of his jacket and pulled him down, till his head bumped into the iron bars. As he was about to groan about the small trickle of pain he felt after hitting his head, Clara placed her hand around his neck, pulling him firm against the gate and pressed her lips against his.  
As fast as it happened, was as fast as it was done. John felt his mind in a scramble; his lips tingling from the sudden change in intimacy.

‘Promise me, you’ll be okay?’ she asked, softly stroking his cheek.

‘I…’

‘Promise me!’ she demanded, desperately.

He nodded and traced his lips with his forefingers.

‘I’ll be back tomorrow.’

He felt her wrap a small beaded bracelet around his wrist and whispered in his ear, ‘It’s my favourite bracelet. I’ve had it since a kid and brought me comfort when I felt alone. I hope it does the same for you. Think of something that makes you happy.’

He smiled at her sadly and she gave his hair a quick ruffle before walking away. 

John sank back onto the hard-wooden bench and picked at the small item, he wore. How could he be happy when he was locked up? He replayed the kiss in his head and found himself smiling. Think of something that makes you happy, was what she had instructed. Clara, made him happy and he spent the rest of his time thinking of her, although it was wrong to do so. 

After all, she had a boyfriend and cheating on him, even though he was an asshole was not the right thing to do… but John felt lately that he was beginning to like her a lot more and was it possible she felt the same way, as well? Maybe he was reading too much into the kiss. Why would a young woman want to be with a fifty-eight-year-old man, who had nothing to offer? Then again, perhaps she saw more to him, than what met the eye.


	18. Tiny human

Chapter 18

The gavel sounded, and John rubbed his temples, hard. The judge surprisingly reduced his bail to five hundred pounds. Clara had managed to rake up a lawyer from the pits of God alone knew where and somewhere in between managed to waver the judge’s opinion. Maybe she had proof of false accusation to help him out, but if that were true, he wouldn’t have to pay anything at all, now wouldn’t he? A small hand rested atop his shoulder and he looked up in the direction of the touch.

‘Let’s go home,’ she said softly, taking him by the hand and pulling him to his feet.

John lingered in the doorway of her apartment, the moment they arrived home, his lips pursed.

‘Is everything alright?’ 

‘I can’t keep doing this to you, Clara… I can’t… I need to leave and stop causing you so much expense…’

‘Shut it. I won’t hear another word of this.’

John shook his head and made his way to the small bar stool at the kitchen table. Clara eyed him from across the room as she set two plates down and pulled out the bread and a jar of strawberry jam and a small tub of butter.

‘Thank you,’ the silvery haired man stated.

‘For what?’

‘Helping me, once again.’

His roommate smiled at him sweetly and he was sure she was. How he wished he could see her.

‘However, I do not believe words come close to showing my uttermost appreciation for your generosity,’ he divulged.

She frowned and set the butter knife down, watching him curiously from across the counter.

‘If I may… may I extend another courtesy?’

‘Alright…’

John opened his arms and Clara instantly chuckled. He wanted to give her a hug. A very innocent gesture with such deep meaning. She walked up to him and slowly leant into his open, awaiting arms. The moment he felt her loop her small limbs around his neck, he closed his around her tiny frame. She closed her eyes and rest her head on his shoulder, breathing him in.

‘Thank you for everything,’ he whispered, running his hand through her soft, brown hair.

‘Anytime.’

A buzzing sensation made her jump, as she quickly whipped out her mobile, to see Francine on the line. 

‘It’s your fave co-worker,’ she announced and answered the call.

The high pitch squeal, followed by the excited chatter and laughter was enough for John to guess there was good news on the other end of the line. When the phone clicked shut, Clara helped him to his feet immediately, and chucked his coat into his palms.

‘Francine is at the hospital! She went into labour last night. Her husband just called to say he’s headed over to see their new baby girl and wanted us to be there!’

Before John could say a word, he was shoved out the door and stuffed into a small taxi. All he could remember was a small hand pulling him down a loud, busy area and then the sound of beeping monitors filled his ears mixed with loud high pitched wails of new born babies.

‘Hi James!’ he heard her greet someone, which he only assumed was Francine’s husband.

‘Congratulations! Where’s the little princess?’

John rolled his eyes. He was not up for mushy talk and personally he hated being in the hospital. He knew Clara knew that… but he assumed in the heat of everything, perhaps she forgot?

‘John, right?’ asked the male voice, taking his hand and shaking it.

‘Yes.’

‘You’re Clara’s friend. I heard a lot about you from Francine. She talks about you all the time,’ he explained.

John forced a smile and nodded, the unease slowly building as the sterile hospital odour filled his nostrils. The small woman looped her arm through his and were guided down a hall to Francine’s room.

The second they walked through the door, John wanted to walk right back out, as the sounds of excitement and mushiness filled the hospital room air. Francine reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze, thanking him for coming to see her, while Clara kept up her bubbliness. 

A mature looking woman dressed in nurse’s attire entered the room carrying a small babe, wrapped in a pink blanket. Clara responded with an audible gasp, the moment her eyes laid on the child, James taking a seat next to Francine as the tiny human was laid gently in her mother’s arms. 

‘She’s gorgeous,’ the brunette cooed, happily.

John sat in the far corner of the room, the atmosphere eating at him.

‘John, would you like to hold her?’ offered Francine, noticing his exclusion.

He looked pale faced and Clara grew concerned.

‘No thanks. I’m afraid I drop her…’

Clara took the child from her friend’s arms and carried her towards the aging man. Slowly, she instructed him to position his arms at specific angles and nestled the baby within his grasp. He laughed nervously, as the baby cooed in his arms. It felt strange to hold such a tiny thing, and he found himself protectively tucking her against his chest.

‘What’s her name?’ 

‘We’re naming her Melody.’

John felt his blood run cold. That was his deceased wife’s name, River being her stage name. The lanky fellow got up and carefully walked towards the trio. James met him halfway and retrieved the child from his grasp and the blind chap quickly excused himself. Clara followed after him seconds later.

‘Hey! What’s wrong?’ she asked, concerned.

‘I have to get out of here,’ he growled.

‘Why?’

‘I can’t… I can’t be here…’

She looked at him confused, ‘Talk to me, John.’

He did not answer and slipped away, aimlessly walking down the hall into the bustling emergency waiting area, where a group of paramedics wheeling in a woman who seemed to be going into labour, crashed into him.

The bakery owner rushed to his side and helped him up, pulling him out of harm’s way. The faint ambulance siren outside made his head hurt and he felt his entire body stiffen. His breathing grew shallow and he felt his head begin to spin.

‘John!’ he heard Clara’s voice.

A tug on his arm temporarily distracted him and he was hauled into the open evening air. He felt Clara shake him roughly, still calling his name.

‘River…’ he choked, a tear rolling down his cheek.

‘Who…?’ 

John repeated the name again and buried his face in his hands, breaking in sobs. Somehow, Clara felt upset by hearing another woman’s name escape her friend’s lips. Why would that bother her? He was her friend and he was upset. However, for him to mention another woman’s name… she had to have been someone important to him. The lady pulled him into a hug and comforted him, noting how his body trembled violently as he cried.

‘It’s going to be okay,’ she soothed.

John felt like his healing wound was torn open by visiting the hospital and how he wished he had never come here. He wanted to be alone and for the first time in a long while, he wished he were dead.


End file.
